Harry Potter and the Child Legilimens
by RandiWeasley
Summary: Harry Potter’s family was warned by the Order that they should give him better care this summer. That clearly meant more free time and nutritious food. But, when Uncle Vernon throws a seven-year-old daughter into the equation, it’s a roller-coaster
1. Miranda Comes to Stay

DISCLAIMER: My dog and I own nothing except an old car, some old clothes, the computer I'm typing this on, and a broken porch swing. Other people own everything else. J.K. Rowlings and others own all things Harry Potter. I'm merely borrowing them for the fun of it.  
  
Author's Note: This is my first "Chapter" fic. PLEASE take a moment to review and honestly tell me what you think of it! Thank you and God bless. Randi.  
  
Harry Potter and the Child Legilimens  
  
Randi Weasley  
  
SUMMARY: Harry Potter's family was warned by the Order that they should give him better care this summer. That clearly meant more free time and nutritious food. But, when Uncle Vernon throws a seven-year-old daughter into the equation, it's a roller-coaster ride wilder than any Gringotts' cart could provide. Rated PG for some mention of child abuse.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Miranda Comes to Stay  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
It was a normal evening among many for the residents of Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. A normal evening that was about to end at Number Four, and, for once, no one could blame its ending on the teen currently occupying the smallest bedroom at the head of the stairs.  
  
The beginning of the end started with the ringing doorbell. "Are you going to get the door, Boy?" bellowed the Head of the House from his comfortable easy chair before the television.  
  
Recognizing that this was not a rhetorical question, the teen-aged boy in the smallest bedroom jumped up and bounded quickly down the stairs. "Yes, sir, Uncle Vernon."  
  
Harry Potter, for so the boy was named, was not a normal teen. This was the main reason his relatives did not like him. They despised and feared the magic he could do as a wizard.  
  
'At least I'm not locked in my bedroom like other summers,' he thought. 'There have been years when I would have been glad to be able to answer the door. And I don't have to think about Sirius while I'm answering the door.'  
  
A look of intense pain crossed his face at that thought. Sirius Black, his godfather, had been killed a month before. He had gone with a group of other adult wizards to rescue Harry and his friends who had snuck into the Ministry of Magic in the mistaken belief that they needed to rescue Sirius.  
  
'If only I hadn't been so very quick to act...If only I had listened to Hermione...If only I didn't have this 'saving people' thing...If only...'  
  
These were the thoughts that had been occupying Harry's brain since he'd returned to Privet Drive from his school, Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, for the summer holiday. While still at school, he had tried blaming others for Sirius' death, namely his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore and his least favorite teacher and Potions Master, Professor Severus Snape. He was still not entirely convinced that they were guiltless, especially Snape, but since his return to his relatives' home, he had started putting most of the blame on himself.  
  
He had also been spending a lot of time thinking about the Prophecy which had led to the disaster at the Ministry of Magic, a prophecy the headmaster had told him about just hours after Sirius's death. The prophecy basically predicted that he, Harry James Potter, was the only person who had the power to defeat the evil Lord Voldemort, who had killed Harry's parents and tried to kill Harry himself when he was only fifteen-months-old. His parents' deaths were the reason he lived with his mother's sister and her family at 4 Privet Drive.  
  
Forcing all thoughts of Sirius, Voldemort, and prophecies from his mind, he opened the door to find a tall, prune-faced woman wearing a pinstriped business suit. Her hair was neatly pulled up into a bun, and she wore a lightweight leather car coat as protection from the night's chilly dampness. For a moment, he thought she was alone. Then he noticed the little girl half-hidden behind her. The child's strawberry-blond hair was as wild as the woman's was neat, and she was clad in a dirty, sleeveless denim dress that was a size too small for her. She had no jumper or jacket and shivered violently from what Harry suspected was a combination of cold and terror. She looked to be about four- or five-years-old and was very pale and extremely thin.  
  
"Hello," he said pleasantly, smiling at the girl before turning to the woman. "May I help you?"  
  
"I am looking for the Vernon Dursley residence," announced the woman in a coldly severe tone. "Is this the right house?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Harry assured her politely. He was just about to ask her name when his aunt, Petunia Dursley, came into the hall.  
  
"You brought her tonight?" Petunia gasped. "Well, come in and let's see what we'll do."  
  
The visitor pushed past Harry roughly. "Toe Rag, heel!" she barked.  
  
The child scrambled in after her. It was only when she tripped that Harry noticed she was wearing pink flops that were about three sizes too large for her feet.  
  
Catching and steadying her before she fell, he smiled as she glanced at him. "My name's Harry. What's yours?"  
  
Before the girl could respond, if indeed she had intended to respond, Business Suit snapped at Petunia. "Of course I brought her now. We left immediately after I rang off. The brat is your niece. She's nothing to me but a bother and expense!"  
  
'Did she just say niece?' Harry wondered, looking at the obviously neglected child before him with a new interest. 'She's a member of our family?'  
  
"Vernon!" Petunia called into the living room, her horsy face pinched with worry. "They brought her tonight. She's here now!"  
  
Vernon Dursley, overweight and under-exercised, came galloping into the hall, his bushy mustache flopping from side to side in his haste. "Now?" he repeated. Then, stopping and staring at both woman and child, he demanded, "What is the meaning of this? Why is the child dressed so shoddily? Where is her baggage? We'll need to change her immediately!"  
  
"She's clothed!" snapped back Business Suit. "What more do you need?"  
  
If it hadn't been for the terrified child before him, Harry would have been sorely tempted to at least smile at the expression on his uncle's face then. It was definitely a satisfying feeling to hear someone talking to Vernon in exactly the same way Vernon addressed him.  
  
Petunia tried to effect a conciliatory tone. "The boy can bring her things up from your auto then." She jerked her head briefly toward Harry.  
  
"Absurd witch!" snapped Business Suit immediately. "There is nothing of hers in my auto. She comes just as you see her."  
  
Harry paled and hastily drew in a quiet breath, waiting for doomsday to befall the woman visitor unfortunate enough to have referred to something magical in the Dursley home, to say nothing of to the Dursleys' faces.  
  
Vernon turned purple and puffed up like a blowfish. However, Aunt Petunia once again intervened. Turning to Harry, she demanded curtly, "Take the child upstairs. See to it that she has her bath, and try to find her something to wear."  
  
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," said Harry quickly, discovering that he was not at all sorry to get away from the tension-filled entry. "Come on then, Mite," he added gently. "Like I said before, my name is Harry. What's yours?"  
  
The child was helped on her way by a none-to-gentle shove from Business Suit. The woman followed this up with a kick to the child's buttocks. As the point of her high-heeled shoe connected, the child's mouth opened in a soundless shriek.  
  
"Never speaks, that one. Not one ruddy sound in days. Unnatural that, I say."  
  
Harry quickly positioned himself between the woman and the girl as he gently shepherded the latter up the stairs. From below, he could all too clearly hear the sounds of Vernon Dursley demanding explanation of this unnatural child who was being left on his doorstep.  
  
Leading the way into his bedroom, he smiled again at the girl. "Let's find you something to wear then, Mite. After that, you can have a nice bath." Glancing the child up and down, he realized it was as he'd suspected. Dudley's clothing would never fit the small pale tike before him. Dudley's clothing didn't even fit him!  
  
With a small sigh, he opened his school trunk and drew out one of his school shirts. "Here we go then," he smiled. "This won't fit you like it does me, but you can wear it anyway."  
  
Having heard Business-Suit's remark that the child never made a sound, he was very pleasantly shocked to hear the raspy whisper from the no doubt long-unused voice. "Thank you, Mr. Harry, sir."  
  
"It's not 'Mr. Harry, sir,' Mite. I'm just Harry, Harry Potter. Do you have a name?"  
  
The child nodded her head with a serious expression. "I'm just Miranda, Miranda Elaine Bentley, but I like how you call me 'Mite.'"  
  
"Well, I'll still call you that, but it's nice to know that you have another name as well." Harry led the girl into the bath and started running water in the tub.  
  
"Mommy and Daddy gave me that name before they went to become angels." The girl's lower lip started quivering violently. "I don't like them being angels, but Auntie Nell said she couldn't make them come home to me again. Can you make my mommy and daddy come home, please?"  
  
"No, Mite," said Harry gently. At first, he could think of nothing else to say. Then his mouth seemed to open of its own accord and words, which were as much a comfort to him as he hoped they would be to the child before him, emerged. "My mummy and daddy are angels too. I bet they're showing your mummy and daddy all around so they're not scared at all. That's what I'm going to do with you when you're finished with your bath. Is that your Auntie Nell downstairs?"  
  
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Miranda. "Auntie Nell is still in Hawaii. She took me and putted me on a big airplane. Then a nice lady putted me on another airplane. Then that woman metted me at the plane place. She didn't tell me her name."  
  
"That's okay," smiled Harry. "She didn't tell me her name either. Let's get your bath now, Mite."  
  
He got up and left the bathroom, only to find the child following right behind him. Gently shooing her back into the bathroom, he said, "Go take your bath and put on the shirt I left in there. Then I'll show you around."  
  
"Aren't you gonna wash me?" she asked. "Mommy, Ee-ee, or Auntie Nell always washed me. Now Mommy's an angel; Ee-ee had to go and live with the blond-haired man; and Auntie Nell is still at her house, but it's in Hawaii. That's too far away for her to washed me. She said so herself." An emphatic nod greeted that last sentence.  
  
"Uh, okay," mumbled Harry embarrassed. "I'll wash you. Do you think you could tell me how? I've never washed anybody else before."  
  
"All right," said the child. "I can show you how Mommy washed me. I liked her way best." Taking Harry's hand, she led him back into the bath and stood with her arms over her head. "Now you grab the bottom of my dress in both your hands, one on each side of me. Then you pull it off over my head."  
  
Harry did this and found the child standing in the buff. She wasn't even wearing knickers.  
  
"Most times, Mommy would always tell me to take off my undies and she'd take off my undershirt. But the kids at that woman's place stoled all my nice clothes. They stoled my mommy-bunny too. Can you get my mommy-bunny back for me please?"  
  
"Uh, what's a mommy-bunny?" asked Harry.  
  
"A bunny that's a mommy with babies in her tum-tum. My mommy had a baby in her tum-tum. I was supposed to have a brother or sister to love, but then Mommy became an angel and her baby went away." The lower lip was quivering again.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mite," said Harry gently. "What do I do now?"  
  
"Hold my hands, please, while I climb in." The girl bent and removed the flips from her feet. Taking Harry's hands and using him for balance, she climbed into the tub and sat down. "Now you wet the rag and rub my body here and on my back." She ran her hand in a circular motion around her chest.  
  
After Harry succeeded in washing her and shampooing the wild hair, he helped her out of the tub and dried her off. After putting the shirt on her, he drained and wiped down the tub.  
  
Aunt Petunia met them on the landing. "Go and put her smock in the washing machine. She'll have to wear it again tomorrow. Come downstairs with me, Child, while I fix that hair."  
  
Just as Harry was turning on the washer, he heard his uncle bellow from the living room, "Get in here now, Boy, and tell us what you've done!"  
  
"Now what's going on?" muttered Harry as he headed down the hall. "Yes, sir, Uncle Vernon?" he asked, stepping into the room.  
  
"What do you mean burning up the comb in your aunt's hand, Boy? After all we do for you: feed you, clothe you, give you a roof over your head, let you use Dudley's second bed-"  
  
"Uncle Vernon," interrupted Harry, before his uncle really started raging. "I didn't do anything to Aunt Petunia. If you don't believe me, I can prove it to you. There are no owls sweeping into the house with expulsion letters, for one thing."  
  
"It wasn't him, Vernon," said Petunia in a weak tone. "I-I think it was-." Breaking off, she nodded fearfully at the girl, curled up in tears in the corner.  
  
"Oh!" the child wailed, as Harry went to kneel beside her. "This is worse than spitting out the potion with the 'spensive birdie tears. When Daddy stops being an angel, he'll smack my bottom red!"  
  
"What?" bellowed Vernon Dursley, louder than before. "Another one in this house? My own niece is a-a freak, like him?"  
  
Crossing the room quickly, Vernon pulled the child to her feet and started to slap her about the back and arms. "You will not be a freak; you won't! I'll beat it out of you; I swear. We weren't allowed to beat it out of him, but no one will stop me with you. You are my niece. You are to be my daughter. No child of mine will possess that freakishness. Do you hear me?"  
  
The child's cries when the blows first began to fall had increased to a fever pitch. Vernon's yells had raised in volume to be heard over hers. Aunt Petunia was hovering around imploring her husband to remember the neighbors.  
  
For his part, Harry wondered where his guard was. It sounded as though the child were being murdered in a most painful way. Why weren't Order of the Phoenix members breaking down the door, demanding to know what was going on?  
  
Maybe, he decided, it was because he was not the one complaining loudly. His guard might be under orders not to interfere in things that did not specifically affect him. Raising his own voice louder than Vernon's, he screeched, "Stop it! You won't get rid of her witchcraft by pounding on her. It doesn't work that way. Stop it, I say! You're hurting her."  
  
Vernon and Petunia both stared at him, shocked. He'd never taken that tone with either of them before. His aunt gasped about the volume at which he discussed 'm-word things.' His uncle stepped forward and landed a beefy fist in the boy's solar plexus.  
  
As the wind was knocked out of him, Harry fell backward onto the carpet. 'Now would be a good time to show up,' he willed the Order of the Phoenix as Vernon advanced on him, his fist once again raised.  
  
Suddenly, however, both Petunia and the child were between the two men. "You can't, Vernon," said his wife, severely. "You mustn't. You remember what that gang at the train station said. Let's go into the kitchen, have some coffee, and discuss this calmly. You two come with us."  
  
Harry picked himself up, with the 'help' of the child tugging his T-shirt. 'That was some gang all right, Aunt Petunia,' he thought sarcastically. 'Tonks, Professor Moody, Professor Lupin, Hermione, and the Weasleys. They're real terrors in the wizarding world. Now, if it had been Voldemort and some of his Death Eaters...If it had even been Snape and some of his Slytherins!' The mental picture of Draco Malfoy threatening Vernon Dursley while Snape stood in the background applauding elicited a laugh from Harry. "Come on then, Mite. Let's see if my gang and I can straighten this all out!"  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
"I won't hear of it; do you understand me, Girl?" Vernon was still raging, five minutes later. "You will stop this, here and now! You will relinquish your freakiness! You will become normal!"  
  
"I don't think it works that way, Uncle Vernon." Harry repeated for the fifth time. "She can't help it. It's just who she is."  
  
"Who she is is my niece," Dursley roared. "It's WHAT she is that's the problem here. I won't have a freak in the family, do you understand that, Girl. He ruined my wife's family; I won't let you ruin mine!" The man was apoplectic with rage. "She's all yours, Boy! If you don't want her, she goes back to that orphanage to live. Either way, she is no longer a daughter of mine! If you take her, you can both stay here for the summer, but that's all I'm going to do!"  
  
"Uncle Vernon, I'm fifteen-years-old. I rather think that's too young to have a five-year-old for a daughter." Harry tried his best to modulate his tone, but it still came off annoyed.  
  
"Seven," said Aunt Petunia, stepping between Vernon and the girl. "She's seven-years-old. Not five."  
  
The child in question snuck around Petunia to run to Harry. "Those other kids hurted me. Don't let him send me back there, Harry, please! Maybe your gang could help you?"  
  
"I don't have-," began Harry. Then he stopped and a mischievous gleam appeared in his eye. "Yes, my gang will help. You remember them, don't you, Uncle Vernon? The Bully-Busters. You met them at King's Cross Station."  
  
Vernon Dursley just growled in reply.  
  
"Let's go write a letter, Mite," smiled Harry.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
The Order of the Phoenix meeting at Number 12 Grimmauld Place was interrupted by the appearance of a bushy-haired girl and a lanky, redheaded boy, both around the age of fifteen.  
  
"Would anyone be going to Number 4 Privet Drive after the meeting?" the girl asked breathlessly.  
  
"Is this an important interruption, Miss Granger?" came a silky voice from the front of the kitchen. "Because I assure you that my report, which you have so rudely interrupted, is VERY important indeed."  
  
"I'm sorry, Professor Snape," said Hermione Granger, with a deep breath. "Hedwig showed up an hour ago with an urgent message from Harry. He needs this potion by 1 AM tomorrow morning."  
  
Most of the Order members around the long table had tensed at the mention of 'urgent message.' Molly Weasley immediately turned to Dumbledore and demanded again that Harry be moved to the Burrow. Remus Lupin suggested that Headquarters might be safer. Severus Snape, however, was glaring at the phial in Hermione's hand.  
  
"I doubt the boy is ill. That is not a fever-reducing potion. Nor is it any medicinal potion that I recognize. It is neither a dreamless sleep potion nor a calming draught. So nightmares are not the cause of this unusual request, despite the strange hours the boy keeps." Snape's voice, while low in pitch, cut easily through the uproar brought on by Molly's words. "Might I see the phial, Miss Granger? It appears that I am the unfortunate soul guarding the boy tonight."  
  
Hermione handed over the lilac-colored bottle carefully. All eyes were on the Potion Master, as he raised it toward his nose and, uncorking the phial, wafted some fumes toward himself for a sniff. Frowning slightly, he cautiously dabbed his little finger into the potion and rubbed it against his thumb. Next, he held his hand to his mouth and even more cautiously touched the finger to the tip of his tongue. Then he smiled-a most unpleasant, Grinch-like grin that many around the table instantly hoped never to witness again.  
  
"Headmaster," he sneered, in his silkiest tone. "I bow to your infinite wisdom and planning. I might be stuck with the unpleasant task of standing in a Muggle yard under an invisibility cloak for the sole purpose of protecting the life of your insufferable Gryffindor Golden Boy. However, I must thank you for permitting it to be the one night when I get to witness young Mr. Potter making use of a girls' hair-calming potion!"  
  
Everyone turned to stare at the two teenagers then. Ron looked embarrassed and slightly sickened, but Hermione merely stated, "Harry said to leave it on the back stoop by the kitchen door after the downstairs lights go out, and he would come and get it at 1 AM."  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
The downstairs lights had been out for some time when Snape stepped forward and put the phial on the steps. He had just gotten back into position across the lawn when the screen door opened part way. He heard Harry's voice whisper, "We can never open the door farther than this, Mite, because it has a squeak that oil won't take away."  
  
"OK, Harry," a young, feminine voice replied in a very loud manner.  
  
"Shush!" hissed Harry. "You'll awaken Uncle Vernon, then we'll both be sorry. Not even my gang could help us then."  
  
'Gang?' thought Snape. 'GANG?' Oh, this was going to be a good night! First, a girls' hair-calming potion and now a gang of Potter's own admission. He might actually volunteer for this duty next time if he thought it would stay this good!  
  
Without warning, his mind was under assault by a Legilimens with a power surpassing the Dark Lord's. He hadn't felt power that strong since his-no! He must not think about him now. The pain was still intense, even after all these years. The cure, and the work leading up to it, hadn't really helped. In fact, when that Hawaiian healer had contacted him, begging for help for his only child, hadn't Snape dispatched the owl with a Howler to the effect that he never wanted to be bothered again? The child was probably dead now. He grieved for her as much as for the one his heart longed to forget. That he'd sentenced another couple to that pain because he could not bear to remember haunted his waking moments and tormented his sleep with dreams. Who was attacking his mind now, though? The attack had subsided when he'd Occlumened, but the presence was still there, like a lingering shadow. Potter didn't have the ability and everyone else in the area were Muggles, weren't they?  
  
Suddenly, through the half-open door slipped a small girl with hair that stuck out from all sides of her head in rats' nests. She was clad in a Hogwarts uniform shirt which would have reached below her ankles were it not held up by a Gryffindor tie cinched around her waist. What Snape paid the most attention to, however, was something that Muggles and Potter would never notice. The child's mind reached out everywhere in uncontrolled abandon, the mind of a natural-born Child Legilimens.  
  
"He's here, Harry!" she exclaimed excitedly, as Potter slipped out the door behind her. "And guess what? He's an Invisible Man!"  
  
Harry was not paying attention to her, however, because he had just found the potion on the steps. "Oh, good. Hermione managed it, Mite. Somehow she always does. Now, sit still and let me put this on your hair."  
  
"OK, Harry." The child sank down onto the step below him. "Do you know the story of the Potions Master and the Legilimens' Lament?"  
  
"No," laughed Harry, uncorking the phial. "I don't believe the Weasleys have ever mentioned that one."  
  
Snape stood frozen, as if transformed into a block of ice. Could this be the child of that Hawaiian healer, alive after all these years? No Child Legilimens had lived beyond the age of two in over a century. The disease was fatal. Even the potions he'd invented did not cure the illness. They merely managed the symptoms-or they were designed to manage the symptoms. His potions were untested, therefore unpublished. The knowledge of them would die with him and no one would be the wiser, except for the Potion Masters' Review Board and Albus Dumbledore. Yet, here was this child talking about a disease whose name she shouldn't even be able to pronounce.  
  
"If I tell you the story, will you ask the Invisible Man about my potions? Daddy will be angry that no one's given them to me since he became an angel this many days ago." She held up one hand with all five fingers extended. "You need to tell him not to yell like his red envelope did, though. That will really awaken Uncle Vernon!"  
  
"I don't think your daddy would awaken Uncle Vernon, Mite," Harry murmured, dumping the phial onto the top of her head and starting to massage the oily substance into her hair. "What's the story? Sit still so I can work this all through your hair now."  
  
"It's a sad story, Harry," she replied with a little wiggle. "It's about a young potions master and his wife who had a baby boy. The boy was born a Legilimens, and children who are born Legilimens get very sick, you know-"  
  
"No, I didn't know that, Mite. All of them get sick?"  
  
"Yes, every one, Harry, for more than 150 years."  
  
"That is a sad story, Mite. What happened with the family?"  
  
"Well, they loved their baby boy very much and were very worried when he got sick. They took him to a special hospital and that's when they learned about the Legilimens' Lament. That's the name of the disease, you know, Harry."  
  
"I do now, Mite. What happened then?"  
  
The girl sighed heavily. "They took their baby back home and the young potions master started looking for a cure. He sat up very late every night reading from big thick old books. Then he got an idea, so he put down his books and took out his cauldron. He brewed many potions, but none of them were the right one. All the time, his little boy kept getting sicker and sicker. Finally, one night he got the potion right. He carefully carried it to his son's crib, but it was too late. The little boy died. His mommy and daddy missed him a lot, you know, Harry."  
  
"I would imagine so, Mite. Is that the end of the story?"  
  
"Oh, no, Harry! The mommy missed her little boy so much that she went to be an angel with him and left the daddy all alone. The daddy cried and was very sad. He tried to give the world his potions so that no other little boys and girls would die like his son did. But the world didn't want his potions, because not many children are born Legilimens. He couldn't prove that his potions worked, you see, Harry."  
  
"That's a shame, Mite."  
  
"Yes. Well, the potions master became angry as well as sad, and he said, 'My potions will die as my son died.' He screamed it into a big red envelope and owled it to anyone asking about his potions. He said that he wanted to forget his wife and son, but in his heart, I know he loves them too much to ever forget. He pretends to be a mean and bitter man, Daddy said, but his wife and son still love him, even though they are angels, and their love will win him back in the end."  
  
"Wow! I hope so, Mite. Nobody deserves to hurt like that."  
  
"We have a prayer, Harry, that Mommy thought his little boy would say if he were still alive and in Hawaii with us. Mommy, Daddy, Ee-ee, all the house elves, and me would say it every night before I went to bed. Will you say it with me now, Harry?"  
  
"Uhm, OK, Mite. But you'll have to teach it to me first."  
  
'Oh, Merlin, it's the child!' Snape thought, his breath catching in his chest. 'The Hawaiian healer's child that I thought I'd sentenced to death. But what is she doing here with Potter? Where are her parents? And, most importantly of all, how did she manage to live?'  
  
The girl was speaking again, and Snape held in his breath so as not to miss a word. "I'll say a line; you repeat it after me, then I'll say the next line, OK, Harry?"  
  
"OK, Mite."  
  
In a sweet, plaintive tone, Miranda sang and Harry repeated a song that went straight to the Potion Master's cold heart and nudged into wakefulness something he'd forgotten was there.  
  
Every night as shadows fall,  
Little toys now put away,  
A curly head, beside a bed  
Knelt down and started to pray,  
  
"God bless my daddy  
Who's over there,"  
Says a tiny little boy  
In his tiny little prayer.  
  
"Please tell my daddy  
He must take care,"  
Says a tiny little boy  
In his tiny little prayer.  
  
"When the sandman is near  
Mommy turns out the light.  
Oh! How I wish he were here  
So he could kiss me goodnight!  
  
"I hope in dream land  
We'll meet somewhere."  
Says a tiny little boy  
In his tiny little prayer. (1)  
  
The something awakened in Snape's heart was forcing long-unshed tears down his cheeks. He could easily imagine little Salazar, his deceased infant son, kneeling by a little crib on a golden cloud and singing that to him. 'That healer's family is amazing,' thought Severus. 'Any other father would have cursed me through the Seven Hells, and rightly so, for refusing to help try to save his child. But this man led his entire household in a prayer for me each night. A prayer that they knew little Sal was not alive to say for himself.'  
  
"Do you think the Invisible Man would be angry with me, Harry?" asked the child fearfully. "Would he send me a screaming red envelope if he knew I'd used his little boy's prayer for my daddy when he became an angel?"  
  
"I don't think so, Mite. I was just thinking the prayer about my daddy too."  
  
'Is this really Potter?' thought Snape then. 'The boy who never shows his emotions unless it is to blow up at people. The boy who bottles everything up inside as if he is the be-all and end-all of existence? Or do I have a Polyjuice impostor on my hands?'  
  
"Would you come and ask him for me, Harry, please. I'm scared of the red envelope that screams. Would you ask him about my potions too? Daddy said I must never miss and I've missed five times already."  
  
"Your potions? What potions, Mite?" Harry looked suddenly panicked.  
  
"The potions the Invisible Man invented for his little boy. I'm a natural-born Child Legilimens too. Without my potions, I'll become an angel like his little boy. Daddy didn't want that. Mommy didn't either. Nor did Ee-ee or the house elves. Nobody wanted me to be an angel yet, so they all worked hard to get me the potions, even the icky-tasting one with 'spensive birdie tears in it. Daddy wrote lots of other letters and learned how to brew them himself, even though he wasn't a Potions Master. It will take too long if you have to start over writing all the letters too. I'm sorry, Harry Daddy. I'm sorry that I'm sick and the Invisible Man will be mad at you."  
  
Harry grabbed the girl's arm and turned her to face himself. "You're not kidding, are you, Mite? This isn't a game. You're really a Legilimens; that's why my head feels funny like when I'm around Professor Snape sometimes?"  
  
"Yes, Harry. And now you need to ask the Invisible Man to give us the way to make the potions, only he sends red screaming envelopes, and Uncle Vernon will yell some more."  
  
"I need to ask whom about your potions, Mite? Slow down a bit here. Who exactly sends Howlers?"  
  
"Severus Snape, that little boy's daddy. He's the Invisible Man too, but nobody told me that before. Maybe they didn't know?"  
  
"Professor Snape had a-a son? One who died? And a wife who died too?" Harry was flabbergasted, so much so that his mind seemed to have shut down. He didn't feel he could handle many more surprises that night.  
  
"I told you the story, Harry, just like Daddy told it to all of us every night before we said the prayer. He said one day Severus Snape would find the love of his wife and son again, and the bitterness would leave his heart. We all hoped he'd find a happy life then and maybe marry again and have another child to make him smile."  
  
The greasy-haired git married with a child to make him smile? Harry couldn't picture it happening in the past, let alone in the future. That might not be the most productive thing to think on now, however. Didn't fathers try with everything inside of them to help their children? He could easily imagine Arthur Weasley doing that. What would Mr. Weasley do if he learned that Ginny were sick and needed potions? Harry decided that he would move Heaven and Earth to get them even if they cost all he owned. So Harry would do no less for Miranda. "Professor Snape knows how to brew the potions that you need, Mite? He invented them himself?"  
  
"SEVERUS Snape knows how to brew the potions, Harry. Nobody called him 'Professor Snape' to me before, but if the Invisible Man standing over there is Professor Snape, then you're right, because I know he's Severus Snape, and, oh! No! He's coming this way!" She jumped up and tried her best to crouch between Harry and the screen door, though there was not a lot of room for her.  
  
Before Harry could begin to formulate a response, Severus Snape did indeed materialize out of the air before him, draping an invisibility cloak over his arm. "Don't try to hide back there, silly girl," he commanded, though without his usual malice. "Don't you remember how Potter says the door squeaks and would awaken his uncle? We have a lot of work to do before dawn if you have indeed been without your Hoijin Potion for five nights. The last thing we need to deal with is angry Muggles. Now come here and let me examine you."  
  
"You aren't mad at me for saying your little boy's prayer to my daddy, are you, sir?" Miranda asked in a quaking voice.  
  
Snape responded in what, for him, was a kindly tone, though most people would think it cold. "No, I'm not angry with you at all. I thought the prayer was, uhm, well, lovely, and I think my son would have been glad for you to use it; therefore, I am glad as well. Now come and stand here before me. What is your name? As you already know, my name is Severus Snape, but you may call me Professor Snape."  
  
"How do you do, sir?" whispered the child, as she crept down the stairs and over to him. "My name is Miranda Elaine Bentley, but you may call me Miranda."  
  
"Well, Miranda," said Snape, peering into her eyes and pressing each fingernail gently between his fingers before peering at them too. "Do you know the names of your potions? The orange one is Hoijin. What others were you taking? Where is your mother? I shall need her permission for you to take the potions when I brew them."  
  
"Both her parents were killed in a car crash five days ago, Professor," Harry spoke up for the first time. "She's come here to live with us. Uncle Vernon adopted her or something tonight but then disowned her when he learned she was a witch. He-he gave her to me. She's my daughter now. If-if you would take care of getting her potions for us, Professor, I will pay you for them and for your trouble. Mum-Mum and Dad left me some money in a vault at Gringott's. Hagrid gave me the key when we went to get my supplies for first year. There's not a lot of money, but I've tried to be very careful with it. As long as I have enough for school supplies this year and next, I can pay you with the rest. After graduation, I'll get a job and continue paying you. Miranda will be going to Hogwarts the year after that so I'll also save money for her school supplies and-"  
  
Severus had been listening to this recital in undisguised amazement. Gone completely was his unemotional veneer. At last, unable to restrain his tongue longer, he interrupted, "Potter, what do you mean she's your daughter now? No one can just GIVE you a child! There are laws to be obeyed and procedures to follow."  
  
"Then, please, sir," said Harry, grimly. "Can you tell me what procedures there are, so I can follow them? Miranda was abused at that orphanage, and I promised her she would never have to go back there while I-while I lived. I intend to keep that promise, Professor. I do!"  
  
Staring into the emerald-green orbs before him, Severus Snape took a moment to admit to himself and digest the fact that he had been mistaken about the Boy-Who-Lived. There was none of James Potter's arrogance in the boy's tone but a great deal of Lilly Evans Potter's determination. 'Albus was right in warning me that the son is not the father. I really should have listened all these years. He's still a brat but maybe he's salvageable after all.'  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
To say that Albus Dumbledore was amazed to get a call from Severus Snape on the Order's emergency two-way mirrors at two in the morning would be an understatement. He was even more amazed, however, by what was said.  
  
"Headmaster, if no one is available yet to relieve me here, I shall have to bring both Potter and the girl to Hogwarts with me. I have emergency potions to brew. It could be a matter of life-or-death. I will be there within thirty minutes. Do I have a relief here?"  
  
"Severus," sighed Dumbledore. "We've been through this already tonight. The reason I asked you to guard Harry was that no one else was available. There is still-"  
  
"Fine," interrupted Snape. "WE shall be there within thirty minutes. Please try to have Poppy Pomfrey and Arthur and Molly Weasley in attendance when we arrive. We shall be explaining more at that time. Goodbye." The connection was abruptly severed, and, try as he might, Albus Dumbledore was unable to reestablish it. With a sigh, he moved to the fireplace to floo and awaken the Weasleys before calling downstairs for Poppy to come up to his office at once.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
Exactly half an hour later, Harry Potter, clad only in a pyjama bottom much too large for him, stepped out of the headmaster's fireplace. He was followed immediately by Severus Snape carrying a small girl dressed in a white uniform shirt cinched with a Gryffindor tie. Her hair hung limply around her head and seemed to contain a large amount of oil.  
  
"Headmaster, Arthur, Molly, Poppy, you already know Mr. Potter. This is his daughter, Miranda Elaine Bentley. She is that Hawaiian healer's daughter, Albus. She has Legilimens' Lament and has been without potion for five nights since her parents were killed in a car crash in Hawaii. That is an unacceptable amount of time to go without Hoijin and Konks. I shall need to remedy this immediately. The potion will require three phoenix tears, if you would be so kind as to talk them out of that infernal bird of yours. Once I have them, I shall retire to my office and leave Mr. Potter to explain further."  
  
Fawkes, who had been resting on his perch, flew to Miranda's shoulder as Severus placed her on her feet. Opening his beak, he trilled before staring into her eyes.  
  
"You're a pretty birdie," said the girl, matter-of-factly. "My name's Miranda. What's yours?"  
  
"His name is Fawkes," smiled Dumbledore. "He is a phoenix."  
  
"Oh! You're the birdie who gives the 'spensive tears. Would you please give Professor Snape three for my Hoijin Potion? Harry is my daddy now, and he will pay you for them, won't you, Harry, please?"  
  
"Payment will not be necessary," smiled the headmaster as Snape removed an empty phial from his robe pocket. He held it under the bird's head as Fawkes tilted it to the side. Three silvery tears fell from his eye into the phial, then the Potions Master corked it carefully before heading out the door without another word.  
  
"Thank you very much, Fawkes," beamed Miranda. "Mommy and Daddy didn't have a nice birdie like you. They had to buy tears at the 'pothocary."  
  
"Your daughter, Harry?" questioned Arthur Weasley, his gentle brow furrowed in confusion. "How is that possible?"  
  
"Well, Uncle Vernon says that she's supposed to be, Mr. Weasley, but Professor Snape says that there are laws to be obeyed and procedures to be followed in order for that to happen. Could you please tell me what they are, sir? I want to do everything properly. Could you please also teach me how to be a father. You're the best dad I know of, and, if Miranda grows up to be just like Ginny, then I'd be very happy."  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
When Professor Snape returned one hour later with Miranda's potions, he was secretly gladdened to note that many things had been ironed out in his absence. Harry was talking in something resembling his normal manner, and Poppy had given Miranda a thorough going-over and healed both children's bruises. Albus had promised to look into the adoption of Miranda and the Weasleys were giving Harry many pointers on guiding the life of a child.  
  
"Here are your potions to take now, Miranda. First, your Konks." He passed her the phial, which she obediently drank down. "Then your Hoijin." The girl gazed at him wistfully, seeming to hope he'd change his mind. "Come on now," Severus shook the phial at her. "The icky orange one with the 'spensive birdie tears is part of the deal too."  
  
"I know, Professor Snape, sir. Daddy would never let Ee-ee add honey to it either."  
  
"I should hope not. Any kind of sweetener would ruin the effectiveness of the potion. Now swallow it before you anger me."  
  
Taking the phial, the child downed the whole of it without another word, though she did grimace as she finished it.  
  
"Good girl!" praised Arthur brightly.  
  
Snape raised a brow at that. "Taking her potions is only what is to be expected of her. Certainly it does not deserve such high praise."  
  
"Now, Severus," said Dumbledore lightly. "I think that is for Harry to decide."  
  
Everyone turned to look at the teen then.  
  
"I think you should be required to take your potions as expected, Miranda," Harry said decisively. "Although it's all right for Mr. Weasley to say that. I think you should tell him 'Thank you,' too."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," smiled the girl.  
  
"You're very welcome, Miranda."  
  
"Now then, Potter," said Snape. "Here are Hoijin and Konks enough to last her for four days. They do not have a long shelf life, so that is all you need at this time. I shall leave more on the back stoop later this week. This is a strengthening draught with the properties of healing draught added. Give her one teaspoonful every morning half-an-hour before her breakfast. You should begin this morning with that. -"  
  
"Er," said Harry nervously.  
  
"Why does that require an 'Er' from you, Potter? Is it too difficult for you to comprehend?" sneered the Potions professor then.  
  
"No, sir. It's just that I haven't been getting breakfast and I'm not sure if that will change now that Miranda has arrived."  
  
"WHAT?" simultaneously exclaimed every adult in the room.  
  
"Why didn't you tell us, Harry?" asked Mr. Weasley. "We would have come and set those Muggles straight."  
  
"It didn't seem important when it was just me," shrugged the teen. "But now, for my daughter..." He waved his hands helplessly before him.  
  
"I think," declared Albus Dumbledore decisively, "that this is the perfect job for Dobby." So the house elf was summoned from the kitchen and plans were laid.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
That is how Harry Potter, the fifteen-year-old Boy-Who-Lived, came to be carrying his sleeping daughter through the back door of 4 Privet Drive at four in the morning, with shrunken potions and ham sandwiches in his pocket, charmed to magically expand in three hours. He also had the promise of food, delivered to his room by Dobby each morning at five. The guards would be warned of Vernon's abuse and ordered to step in and take appropriate action if they heard any uproar from the house. What Harry Potter carried in his heart though was the most important change that day. No longer did he feel Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore wanted or relished his godfather's death. Without the animosity those thoughts had caused, he found his spirit a lot lighter. The grief, the loss, the worry over the Prophecy, it was all still there within him, but he did not have to go it alone. The support and friendship he now felt made the burdens easier to bear as support and friendship always do in anyone's life.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
(1) Title of Song: 'God Bless My Daddy' Source: David Michael "Tane" Kaipolaua'eokekuahiwi Inciong, II - One of the first renditions of this song was recorded by falsetto artist George Kainapau 


	2. Hairy HarryDaddy Day

DISCLAIMER: My dog and I own nothing except an old car, some old clothes, the computer I'm typing this on, and a broken porch swing. Other people own everything else. J.K. Rowlings and others own all things Harry Potter. I'm merely borrowing them for the fun of it.  
  
Author's Note: This is my first "Chapter" fic. PLEASE take a moment to review and honestly tell me what you think! Thank you to everyone who reviewed last time. You truly made my week and inspired me with this chapter. This fic will be as true-to-real-life as I can manage to make it. It is necessary for someone to be legally 'of age' to take responsibility for a child. Harry is only 15, so he does have a problem, doesn't he? (Cackles evilly) There will be a LOT of Snape in this fic, I promise. Except for, well, I think for now that's my secret! Thanks again and God bless. Randi.  
  
Harry Potter and the Child Legilimens Randi Weasley  
  
SUMMARY: Harry Potter's family was warned by the Order that they should give him better care this summer. That clearly meant more free time and nutritious food. But, when Uncle Vernon throws a seven-year-old daughter into the equation, it's a roller-coaster ride wilder than any Gringotts' cart could provide. Rated PG for some mention of child abuse.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% Last Time:  
  
That is how Harry Potter, the fifteen-year-old Boy-Who-Lived, came to be carrying his sleeping daughter through the back door of 4 Privet Drive at four in the morning, with shrunken potions and ham sandwiches in his pocket, charmed to magically expand in three hours. He also had the promise of food, delivered to his room by Dobby each morning at five. The guards would be warned of Vernon's abuse and ordered to step in and take appropriate action if they heard any uproar from the house. What Harry Potter carried in his heart though was the most important change that day. No longer did he feel Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore wanted or relished his godfather's death. Without the animosity those thoughts had caused, he found his spirit a lot lighter. The grief, the loss, the worry over the Prophecy, it was all still there within him, but he did not have to go it alone. The support and friendship he now felt made the burdens easier to bear as support and friendship always do in anyone's life.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
Chapter 2 Hairy Harry-Daddy Day  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
It was awkward avoiding the squeaky step near the head of the staircase while carrying Miranda and trying not to awaken her. But Harry managed it, and he supposed that it would get easier with practice. The Weasleys had assured him that many times parenting things did.  
  
He gently laid the sleeping child on her cot and pulled the towel he'd nipped from the bathroom over her. He'd have to see about getting bedding, hopefully some little-girl kind that would make Miranda smile. Stepping back, he surveyed his room by the dim light of his desk lamp. His bed, always close to the wall, was now jammed tight against it. Between the bed and the dresser was shoved his old cot from the cupboard. There was no space between those items of furniture, but he felt it a small sacrifice in exchange for saving Miranda from life under the stairs. It also assured that the child wouldn't fall out of bed. He gave a rueful grin at that thought remembering the many times he'd awakened himself by falling from the cot in the cupboard's darkness. He hoped to always be there for Miranda if she ever did fall out of bed.  
  
Quietly moving to his desk, he cleared off the books and set the minuscule potion package in the center, ready for when it enlarged. Then he dropped to the floor, flat on his stomach, and silently raised the loose floorboard. Stowing the small bag full of ham sandwiches in the space, he put back the board just as he was startled by a loud 'POP' behind him. Rolling over even as he reached for his wand, he was very relieved to see tennis-ball-sized eyes beaming at him in the dimness.  
  
"Hello, Dobby. Please be quiet. Miranda is sleeping."  
  
"Yes, Mr. Harry Potter, sir," agreed the elf in a tone that forced Harry to strain to hear. "Professor Dumbledore is wanting Dobby to bring hot food for breakfast to Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Miranda Bentley. Also, Mrs. Molly Weasley is wanting Dobby to deliver some of Miss Ginny Weasley's old things to Mr. Harry Potter, sir. She is thinking Miss Miranda Bentley could be using them." He gestured behind himself to a large box overflowing with little clothes, sandals, and a few toys. There was even a stuffed bear which had a note attached to its tie with a Muggle safety pin.  
  
"Wow!" breathed Harry. "Thank you, Dobby. Er, well. Thank her, Dobby. I—I mean, thank everybody, Dobby."  
  
The house elf's expression grew slightly worried. "Everybody as in all the people in the world, Mr. Harry Potter, sir? Including Muggles, sir?"  
  
"What? Oh, no! No!" Harry hastened to explain as he remembered how literal Dobby's thinking could be. He could just imagine the elf faithfully going door-to-door announcing, 'Mr. Harry Potter says, 'Thank you.'' "That's just an expression, Dobby, which means that I'm very, VERY grateful. Please thank Professor Dumbledore and, if you should just happen to see her today, Mrs. Weasley. You don't have to go looking for her though. I'll send her an owl."  
  
Dobby looked very relieved. "Yes, Mr. Harry Potter, sir." Giving Harry his widest grin, he disappeared with another 'POP.'  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
Miranda awakened at ten-fifteen to find Harry sitting next to a box on the floor. "Look what Mrs. Weasley sent you, Mite. See all these nice clothes and some toys. Her daughter, Ginny, gave you her best Bear-Friend to keep. She wrote you a note." Harry held out the parchment that he had previously unpinned from the bear's tie.  
  
The girl took it gingerly and stared at it in awe. "This is really for me? Nobody wrote me a note before. What do I do with it, Harry?"  
  
Harry chuckled then. "Why, you read it, of course, Mite."  
  
The child's face fell. "Oh, then it must not be really mine. I don't know how to read Harry. My—my teacher told Daddy that I could never, ever learn."  
  
"Why ever not?"  
  
"I don't know, Harry," Miranda shrugged. "I guess that's part of the Legilimens' Lament. Daddy never said why. He just told the woman that she was on fire, so she went away and never came back. Another lady came and tried to teach me reading then, but, of course it didn't do no good." She hung her head with a pout. "I knew it wouldn't, but Mommy and Daddy wanted the lady to try."  
  
"Er. Well, yes, I can understand that, Mite. I would have wanted the lady to try as well. For right now, why don't I just read the note to you? How would that be?"  
  
"Fine! Thank you, Harry." Miranda passed the note carefully back to him with a big grin that could rival Dobby's. "I never got a note before," she repeated.  
  
"Dear Miranda," Harry read. "This bear used to be mine when I was seven- years-old. My daddy found him and brought him to me to care for. I'll be going back to Hogwarts soon, and I will be very busy studying for some important tests (O.W.L.s) that I must take in June. Harry finished his OWLs last month, so he will understand what I mean. Even without OWLs, I was beginning to have a hard time caring for Mr. Bear. I think, and he agrees, that he would be much happier with you, if you'd consent to take him. He likes a lot of love and at least one hug a day. Yours, Ginny Weasley."  
  
Harry found his eyes moistening, strangely touched by the way Ginny had written the note. Miranda's voice cut into his thoughts. "Where is Mr. Bear, Harry?"  
  
"Oh! Here you go then, Mite." Harry reached into the box and, carefully removing the stuffed bear, passed it into Miranda's waiting arms.  
  
For a moment, she stared at the animal in serious thought. Then she announced, "I think, and he agrees, that he needs more than one hug right now."  
  
"I agree too, Mite," whispered Harry, watching her squeeze the bear tightly to her chest.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
"OK," he continued after several hugs had been given and many whispered words of affection had gone into the tattered stuffed ears. "Let's get your strengthening draught, and then you can get dressed while we wait the thirty minutes before you can eat. Professor Dumbledore sent us a hot breakfast with eggs and kippers."  
  
"What are kippers, Harry?"  
  
"Pieces of smoked herring. They're really good, Mite." He approached her with the phial and spoon, which Professor Snape had thoughtfully packed. She obediently opened her mouth and took the medicine.  
  
After swallowing, she thought a moment before announcing, "It doesn't even taste bad, Harry."  
  
"That's good, Mite, though you'd still be required to take it even if it tasted horrible." The Weasleys had told him that it helped to frequently repeat rules to young children and that the best time to do so was when they were not in trouble.  
  
"I know, Harry. Even if it tastes as icky as Hoijin."  
  
"I know that you know that, Mite," smiled Harry. "I'll just be reminding us of it from time to time so we don't forget."  
  
"OK, Harry."  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
After Miranda was dressed; her clothes, toys, and potions packed safely away; and the breakfast consumed, Harry led the way downstairs.  
  
"You're late with your chores, Boy!" Vernon snapped. "There'll be no meals for either of you until you're done."  
  
"Yes, sir, Uncle Vernon," Harry agreed wearily, beginning to wash up the breakfast dishes which were stacked in the sink.  
  
When the kitchen was finished, Harry led Miranda outside. Reaching inside his shirt, he pulled out the coloring book and crayons he had hidden there. "You sit on the steps and color a nice picture while I weed the garden, Mite."  
  
"OK, Harry."  
  
Miranda had been coloring for about fifteen minutes when she suddenly looked up and spoke, "How can I become a cat lady, Harry?"  
  
"I don't know, Mite. What's a cat lady?"  
  
"A lady who's pretending to be a cat. Like the one behind you."  
  
Looking around, Harry noticed a gray tabby cat with square markings around the eyes peering at him from the shade of a nearby tree.  
  
"Professor?" he hissed. "Professor McGonagall?"  
  
"Mew," replied the cat.  
  
"I'm sorry to ask you to leave the shade, ma'am, especially after you've been in St. Mungo's and all, but would you come closer, please? I really need to talk to you but the Dursleys mustn't see me doing it."  
  
"Mew!" The cat fairly bounded across the lawn and curled up under the wilting hydrangea bush. It was no shade but it was out of sight.  
  
While continuing with his weeding, Harry whispered the whole story of Miranda. "And she says that her teacher told her that she'd never be able to read. Her father brought in another teacher then, but the lessons were not successful. Do you think that first teacher was right and I should just forget about her ever being able to read, or should I keep trying like her father?" After glancing expectantly at the cat, he laughed softly. "Sorry, ma'am. I guess you can't tell me like that, can you? Uhm. Can you shake or nod your head?"  
  
The tabby nodded.  
  
"Do you think that first teacher was right?"  
  
The cat shook its head so emphatically that it ended with a sneezing fit.  
  
"Good!" breathed Harry. "I didn't either, but I haven't been a father for a whole day yet, so what do I know anyway?"  
  
The tabby gave him a very stern look.  
  
"Well, yes, ma'am. I know I'm not a real father until I obey the rules and follow the procedures," he explained. He was just about to explain more when a loud guffaw distracted him.  
  
"Potty Potter purrs to pussies!" Dudley came swaggering across the lawn, hitching up his jeans. "Batty old Figgy turned you into a cat lover, Potter?"  
  
Harry drew himself up rigidly. "That 'batty old Figgy,' as you so rudely call our neighbor Mrs. Figg, is the one person who stopped to help me get your sorry arse home after those dementors attacked it last year. Now take back your words and speak respectfully around my daughter from now on, Dursley! I won't have you teaching her any of your atrocious manners."  
  
Dudley stared at Harry openmouthed. "I'm going to tell Dad you talked about those things from last summer. Then you'll be in trouble, Potter!" He hurried off, as fast as he could waddle, toward the back door of the house.  
  
"Uncle Vernon will be really mad at you again, Harry," said Miranda worriedly.  
  
"That's OK, Mite. I couldn't let him get away with saying that. It was rude. Don't you ever say anything like that either."  
  
"I won't, Harry," the child promised.  
  
Just then, the front door slammed and Vernon Dursley stormed down the steps. "Boy," he hissed once he'd reached Harry. "What do you mean, talking to our Dudley about those unnatural, freaky things? Just for that both she and you can go to bed without supper." He gestured behind himself toward where Miranda sat frozen on the edge of a stair.  
  
"She didn't do anything wrong, Uncle Vernon. She doesn't even know what I said to Dudley. Besides, you're already making her wait for lunch because I was a little late starting my chores. She needs to eat some time today!"  
  
"That is no concern of mine, Boy. If you're worried about it, maybe you should learn to be more responsible and respect your betters. The two of you are sleeping in Dudley's second bedroom, you know."  
  
Harry bit his lip and, with extreme difficulty, held back the torrent of protest he wished to raise then. "Yes, sir, Uncle Vernon. I'm sorry, sir."  
  
Vernon nodded, appeased. "Well, see to it that the lesson is learned, Boy. We are going to the shop foreman's home for the afternoon. They recently had a swimming pool installed in their back yard and are throwing their first pool party. See to it that our dinner is ready to be served at 6:30. None of it had better be missing either, if you two know what's good for you."  
  
"Yes, sir, Uncle Vernon."  
  
Aunt Petunia and Dudley, both dressed for a summer party at poolside joined Vernon on the lawn. Harry had vaguely started to wonder how Dudley had changed so quickly when his aunt's voice cut into his thoughts. "Be sure to tear the lettuce for the salad. Don't cut it with the knife like you did last time."  
  
"I won't, Aunt Petunia."  
  
The adults headed for the garage then. "Let's go, Duddykins," Aunt Petunia called back sweetly.  
  
"Ha, Freak!" Dudley shoved up against Harry, knocking him over and causing him to elbow McGonagall in the head.  
  
"Got the cat too," Dudley smirked, waddling away once again. "Two for the price of one! Ha! Ha!  
  
"I'm sorry, Professor," whispered Harry after the family had climbed into the auto.  
  
"Mew," reassured the tabby gently.  
  
Once the auto had disappeared around the corner, the cat mewed again and took off toward the back yard. With a sigh, Harry went and sat by Miranda. "I'm so sorry, Mite. It looks like you're not getting dinner either."  
  
"That's OK," smiled the child. "I'd much rather eat Professor Dumbledore's ham sandwiches with you than even eat chocolate cake and white icing with them without you."  
  
"You're wonderful, Mite." Harry leaned over and kissed her forehead.  
  
"I know, Harry," she responded immodestly.  
  
With a chuckle, Harry went back to the weeding, but, just as he was stretching his hand out for a weed, there came a whisper of "Sarro," from the corner of the house. All the weeds immediately disappeared as if they had never been. (1)  
  
Glancing up, he saw Minerva McGonagall, clad in a Muggle business suit, standing there. "Let's get inside, Mr. Potter. We've a lot to do before they return."  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
After opening the door with a quiet 'Alohomora,' Minerva stepped aside to let Harry lead the way. To say that she had found the Dursleys' treatment of her student shocking would be the understatement of the year.  
  
Grimly, she thought back to that eventful Halloween night so long ago. 'Lilly, James, you'd be turning in your graves now if you knew what happened here these past two days. And how many times has today's behavior happened before? I rather suspect that this treatment is the norm.'  
  
She conjured a ham, fruit salad, potatoes, glazed carrots and pumpkin juice. "Sit and eat. Harry, is there somewhere that I might have a private conversation with a friend? I have the means of contacting him."  
  
"Yes, Professor." Harry led her to his uncle's reclining chair in the corner of the living room by the window overlooking Privet Drive. After demonstrating the use of the reclining, vibrating, and heating mechanisms, he added, "We'll be in the kitchen. Call if you need anything."  
  
Once the teen had returned to his luncheon, McGonagall pulled out her emergency two-way mirror which connected her with the other members of the Order of the Phoenix. Tapping it hard on her fingertips, she called, "Severus Snape!"  
  
Within moments, a sallow face appeared framed by a curtain of raven hair. "You needed me, Minerva?"  
  
"Yes, Severus. Is Albus there with you?"  
  
A sneer appeared on the face before her. "No, and I'm busy."  
  
Before he could disconnect, the Transfigurations professor stated, "Good. It's you with whom I need to speak. Are you alone?"  
  
The sneer showed definite danger of becoming a smirk as he replied, "My owl, Xerxes, is perched outside the open door, but I assure you that he is most trustworthy."  
  
"That's fine," McGonagall replied with the barest hint of a smile. "I am at Privet Drive."  
  
The countenance before her changed abruptly. "What is wrong? Did Miranda have a reaction to her Strengthening Draught? Is she ill in some other way?"  
  
"Severus!" Minerva calmed. "I don't know anything about her potions, but I assure you that she looks fine, and cute as a button in Ginny Weasley's old sailor suit."  
  
"You contacted me to discuss her fashions? Or is this some more pestering about Harry Potter's choice of career? I've told you for years that I do not accept students—"  
  
"This has nothing to do with Hogwarts business, Severus. Harry desperately needs advice and before I feel confident giving it, I need to know certain facts about child Legilimens. You and Albus are the only two Legilimens I know, and I obviously can't go and ask him. Would you say that the child's disease has affected her brain in any way?"  
  
"Legilimens' Lament affects the nerves in the brain, Minerva. That is the whole nature of the disorder. When the nerves in the hypothalamus become too affected, the brain stops sending signals to the heart and lungs. That's when death ensues." He drew in a deep calming breath, a tortured look in his eyes.  
  
"I understand that, Severus. What I meant was does the disease affect the child's learning ability or capacity to perform educationally?"  
  
An eyebrow quirked then. "It certainly has not affected her in that manner. Any signs of dunderheadedness would be Potter beginning to rub off on her."  
  
"Severus!"  
  
"All right! All right, Minerva! What is this question really about then?"  
  
McGonagall explained about the teacher and how Miranda had informed Harry that she would never, ever be able to learn to read.  
  
Severus cursed. "What is wrong with such dunderheaded educators, Minerva? The child could Legilimen her feelings, and she validates them to the child's face? Of course, telling a child she is that stupid would make her believe it! Why do teachers do that?" He raged on for quite some time in this manner.  
  
The Transfiguration professor, who had frequently raged to Albus Dumbledore in the same manner about Severus Snape's ability to do the very thing he was now protesting so violently, merely sat waiting until he ran out of steam. She tried not to let her amusement show on her face.  
  
"So you agree that I should recommend to Harry that someone continue trying to teach her to read?"  
  
"Yes, of course, but if the child felt from that teacher what I believe she felt, it will do no good until those feelings are addressed." He frowned thoughtfully. "I shall be at Privet Drive in five minutes. Albus has round-the-clock guards on Harry, so he's no doubt heard by now that you are there. Should he show up, keep him there with you. He can help prove my point to Miranda. Goodbye for now." The mirror went dark.  
  
"Sev—Severus! Wait a—," Minerva frowned mightily. "Oh, that man can be so exasperating!" Rising from the, in her opinion, ridiculously over-padded chair, she headed for the kitchen to inform Harry that more company was coming.  
  
Within a moment, the doorbell rang. Harry went to answer it and had no sooner returned with Professor Dumbledore than it rang again. Next he entered with Professor Snape.  
  
Joining the others at the kitchen table, Severus looked deeply into Miranda's eyes before announcing, "I think a discussion of Legilimens' Lament and exactly what it does and does not cause is in order."  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
"So you see, Miranda, just because one woman felt that way does not mean that it is true. Many other people know differently. We all know that you CAN learn to read and do many other things as well. But you must believe in yourself." Severus paused to study the child before him. Minerva, Albus, and Harry were all looking at the girl also.  
  
"I'll try, Professor Snape," the child promised.  
  
"That's all I'm asking. Just try your best to learn." Severus conjured a book and passed it across the table to Harry. "This was the manual my wife was planning to use to teach our son. Miranda should be able to move through it at a steady pace."  
  
"Thank you, sir," said Harry. He opened his mouth to say more but was interrupted by Minerva McGonagall choking on her tea, spitting half a mouthful down the front of her suit and spraying the rest across the kitchen table. "Are you all right, ma'am?"  
  
"You didn't tell her?" Snape looked at Dumbledore in amazement.  
  
"Severus, I have never shared any of the things you told me without your prior permission. No, not even with Minerva. No one knows unless you told them. Well, with the exception of Harry, Arthur, Molly, and Poppy. I'm afraid they heard from Miranda in my office last night."  
  
"Potter already knew," Snape sneered. Then, becoming serious, he continued, "I don't mind Arthur, Molly, Poppy or Minerva knowing. They will not tell anyone, even their own families. But I don't want anyone else knowing, and that includes your insufferable friends, Potter. You will not talk of my family with anyone except the people I have named and the headmaster. This topic is not open for gossip."  
  
"I wouldn't gossip about that, Professor Snape. That's your private business." Harry looked aghast at the thought.  
  
"The same as the thoughts in my pensieve were my private business, Potter?" Snape muttered to himself, but just loudly enough for Harry to hear.  
  
"Professor Snape, I—"  
  
Severus sighed heavily. "Enough, Potter. Now the way you use this book is..."  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
After the adults had left, Harry decided it was time for Miranda to take a nap.  
  
"Seven-year-olds don't take naps, Harry."  
  
"Nevertheless, you will take a daily nap unless I tell you otherwise. You really should have started your nap at 1:30, which you will do every afternoon. Now it's already almost 2:00. Come on. Let's go upstairs."  
  
Professor McGonagall had put a freshness charm on the leftover food, so Harry packed it up carefully and stored it under the loose floorboard. Then he went to sit by Miranda who was pouting on the cot.  
  
"I don't want to take a nap, Harry. I want to learn how to read."  
  
"Well—uhm, I—I guess that would be OK." Harry and Miranda sat together and worked on the lesson book for about fifteen minutes before Miranda fell asleep. Laying her back on the cot, Harry went to his desk and wrote thank- you notes to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Madam Pomfrey, Hermione, and Professors Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall. Giving them to Hedwig, he quietly opened the window and let the owl out. "Don't come back unless the house is dark, Girl," he warned. "Uncle Vernon is in a foul mood." Hedwig hooted sadly and nipped his finger in comfort before flying off.  
  
At 5:30, Harry went downstairs, prepared the Dursleys' meal and set the table. At 6:25, they trooped in, dropped their wet things on the kitchen floor and sat at the table expectantly. When Harry had placed all the food before them, poured Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's coffee and given Dudley three bottles of pop, he was ordered to hang the wet things outside. After that chore was completed, he went upstairs to find Miranda trembling and teary-eyed.  
  
"What's wrong, Mite?"  
  
"I woke up and you were gone," she sobbed. "I don't want you to ever be gone, Harry!"  
  
"Shush," he said gently. "I was just downstairs serving dinner and hanging out the others' wet things. I would never deliberately go away from you, Mite."  
  
Snuggling close against him, the girl wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. "Promise, Harry?"  
  
No one had ever held onto him in that way before. The closest experience he could think of was Cho Chang crying in his arms about Cedric, and that didn't even come close to this. 'What am I supposed to do now?' he wondered.  
  
"Daddy would hold me on his lap, hug me, kiss me, and tell me that he promised," said Miranda.  
  
"Oh, OK," Harry replied and then blinked. "Wait a minute. I know I didn't ask that question out loud."  
  
"I Legilimened you, Harry. It's what I do."  
  
Looking hard into her eyes, Harry questioned, "You can sense my emotions and see my memories all the time?"  
  
Miranda wrinkled her nose. "That's Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore's thing, Harry. They were both grown up before they knew how to Legilimen. Daddy says what I do is more like reading his mind. Now you're my daddy so I read yours."  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
Forty-five minutes past midnight found Harry carrying a sleeping Miranda through the back door to the garden bench. Laying her carefully down, he sat in front of her to prevent her falling should she roll. Then he whispered into the still night air.  
  
"Er. I know someone's guarding me now; at least I think you are. If you're really there, could you please talk to me. I need help, and I need it before Miranda awakens."  
  
Grass rustled and then a soft masculine voice whispered, "What's wrong, Harry?"  
  
"Er. I know I've heard your voice before, sir, but I can't quite remember..."  
  
A gentle laugh greeted his words. "That's all right, Harry. Alistor Moody would be proud of you checking like that. I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt."  
  
Harry immediately recognized the tall auror's voice then.  
  
"What's wrong, Harry?" Kingsley repeated.  
  
Harry briefly explained the evening's happenings and Miranda's revelation that she read his mind. "She's a Child Legilimens, you see, sir, and—"  
  
"Yes, I know, Harry. Severus, uh, Professor Snape told us about her and explained about her abilities and illness. I'm one of the people assigned to help see to it that you get her potions on time.  
  
"Hmm, what would I do if my child could read my mind. It is a scary thought."  
  
"Yes, it is," Harry agreed ruefully.  
  
"You know, Harry. I think I'd have to learn to protect my mind from my child the same way as you learned to protect your mind from Voldemort. Not that I'm comparing Miranda to Voldemort by any means! But I think I'd change Alistor's motto to 'Constant Occlumency!' and never let down my guard. There are things parents must think about that children Miranda's age do not need to know."  
  
"'Constant Occlumency' huh? OK. Thanks a lot, Kingsley."  
  
Harry seemed to be losing himself in thought. "Before he could completely do so, however, Shacklebolt added gently, "You know, Harry. I don't want to criticize you or anything, but the next time you bring Miranda out here asleep like this, you should really bring along a blanket too. It would help protect her from catching a cold."  
  
"We don't have any blankets," the lanky teen mumbled distractedly, not even seeming to register what he was saying. "I covered her up today with a towel I nipped from the bath last night. Forgot to bring it down with me though."  
  
"Oh, sorry. I didn't know that." Kingsley withdrew across the lawn once more. 'Severus said to contact him, day or night, if anything occurred which could in any way threaten the girl's health. Not owning a blanket would certainly seem to qualify,' he thought, as he reached for his emergency two-way mirror.  
  
Meanwhile on the garden bench, Harry was berating himself in a whisper. "Not only Professor Dumbledore said Occlumency was important. Remus and Sirius did too. Why didn't I go back to Professor Snape and ask him, beg him, to teach me again like they suggested? Why didn't I just apologize for looking into his pensieve? It's not like I didn't want to apologize. I was really sorry, so why did I let the fact that it was Professor Snape stop me from doing what I should? Now the one thing I most need to know is the one thing I can no longer learn."  
  
"Who besides yourself says that you can't, Potter?" sneered a silky voice from directly behind his shoulder.  
  
Glancing around, Harry saw Severus Snape gently draping a thick cotton throw over Miranda's sleeping form. He raised her head slightly and stuffed a small pillow under it before turning back to the boy. "As for the why did you let the fact that it was me stop you from apologizing, I rather suspect part of it might be that you suspected I would not apologize in turn. I'm sorry to say that you would have been correct in that assumption. I have been behaving worse than any fifteen-year-old with you for a long time. Part of that is because of the Dark Lord and what I bear on my arm. Most of it, however, was a foolish animosity toward your father and his cohorts. That is something that never should have happened. I apologize to you, Harry."  
  
The teen opened his mouth to reply; though he did not know exactly what he would say. His professor however prevented the words with an upraised hand. "Do not respond now. Think over exactly what you wish to say. I shall return in two days' time with a new supply of potions. Anything you wish to say or ask, I will listen to at that time. Until then, simply clearing your mind to the best of your ability should be sufficient protection from the girl. I'll have a better suggestion when I see you again, but I need a little time to research it."  
  
Before he could talk himself out of it, Harry asked quickly, "If I asked you at that time to resume the Remedial Potion lessons, would you do it, Professor?"  
  
Snape smirked at him. "I do not teach Remedial Potions to students who achieve scores of 'Outstanding' on their OWLs and succeed in earning their places in my NEWT class, Mr. Potter. If, however, you wished to pursue advanced studies, possibly into the potions necessary for treating Legilimens' Lament, I might be willing to spare you a few hours a week."  
  
Before the Boy-Who-Lived could ask his most hated professor if he was serious, Snape handed him a cotton throw as well. "Wrap yourself up in this, Potter. I do not permit my NEWT students to sneeze over their potions, especially not the ones who will make outstanding aurors." As the man turned away, Harry thought he heard him add, "Like their fathers."  
  
'Was my dad an outstanding auror?' Harry wondered. 'Did I really score an 'O' on my Potions OWL?' 'What did Professor Snape mean when he said part of the way he treated me had to do with the Dark Lord?' 'What...?'  
  
Sitting there beside his sleeping daughter, Harry Potter's body finally gave in to the exhaustion and he slept, leaving the only alert figures in the garden the auror standing guard over the boy and the tabby cat hidden in the bushes.  
  
'You did it, Harry!' cheered Minerva McGonagall. 'I knew you would. Oh, Severus will be totally livid when he shows up to request you in his NEWT class and finds out that you've been enrolled since the end of last term. He just hates it when I outguess him. Maybe I won't tell him that I've already enrolled you in the class. I'll let him think I'm doing it at his request. Yes, that's better. Anything else will just be my little secret."  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
(1) Sarrio = Latin for "to weed, to hoe" 


	3. Interrogator Snape

DISCLAIMER: My dog and I own nothing except an old car, some old clothes, the computer I'm typing this on, and a broken porch swing. Other people own everything else. J.K. Rowlings and others own all things Harry Potter. I'm merely borrowing them for the fun of it.

Author's Note: This is my first "Chapter" fic. PLEASE take a moment to review and honestly tell me what you think!

I will not post individual reviews for every chapter, but I felt it was time to express thanks and explain a bit. I promise not to put you through this often.

**Moonfyre, Xtyne, Zachiliam, Starangel2106, Thethirdtroll, Padawan Jan-AQ, Badassgothicgirl, ERMonkey, Burner of Cookies, Debby Smith, Withineverydarknessislight, Abbie, Crystal, Prophetess Of Hearts, Crazy-lil-nae-nae, Ellsie, and Dark Lights:**

Thanks for the reviews. I really appreciate them all. It's people like you who give me the courage to keep on posting. Yes, I intend to keep writing this story. I'm currently nursing muses through Miranda's third year at Hogwarts. Yes, she'll go there, have a lot of fun, and a lot of trouble. (Evil grin.) Harry will do the best he can to remain a good father, (though I'm not promising an actual adoption...YET!)

**Spacecatdet, Insanechildfanfic, Otspock, and Hpz26:**

Thank you so much for the review. It's people like you who give me the courage to keep on posting.

**BamaRedneck:**

You put me on your Favorites list. WOW! Thank you. I'm truly honored. :-)

**Moghedien17:**

What can I say? (blush) (blush). Thanks for the great reviews. I hope the story lives up to your expectations.

If anyone read Moghedien17's reviews and got a little confused, you need to check out her brilliant brainchild of a fic which we are currently co-authoring with redrosey. It is called "Emmilen." (Story id: 1888827). Even if you didn't read the reviews or get confused, also check out her other cool fic, "The New and Improved Koraleigh Snape." (Story id: 1825470)

**Molly Morrison:**

Thank you again for the permission to borrow 'you-know-what' and a big thanks for the long thoughtful review. WOW! I'm honored. I'm not sure if I succeeded in improving anything in this chapter, but I did look more closely at my characters, and I think that improved my thought about the chapter ten-fold, at least. Thank you again for taking the time to help me. I really appreciate it. You are one of my favorite authors. I wait most impatiently for every update to your story "Lies." I hope that someday my writing is as good as yours.

I was unable to find any reference on-line as to exactly what or who 'Mary Sue' was. I gathered though that it (she?) was something (someone?) I would not want to write about anyway. So I think you're safe with not finding Mary Sue in my fic.

Miranda really is a Legilimens. Her skills as a natural-born exceed both Dumbledore's and Snape's. But she is only seven years old. So, while she has access to her phenomenal powers, she doesn't quite know or understand what she gets from the adults in her life and she only thinks things through on a seven-year-old's level. So whatever she says may or may not be accurate information.

Dumbledore also has a trick or two up his sleeve with regard to Harry as a "father." But then Fate also has a trick or two up its sleeve for Dumbledore. Let's just hope Harry leaves the poor man's office intact this time. OOPS! All I can do is quote Hagrid, "I prob'ly shouldna have told yeh that!" (Very Big Grin!)

And last, but in no way least...

**Shelly101:**

You managed to pick up on what I was so abysmally attempting to demonstrate. Harry is now trying to change his behavior to demonstrate a proper role model for Miranda. Though I don't promise that he will always succeed, but then what parent is 100 percent perfect all the time? The first night he was trying to deflect his uncle's anger to prevent more injury to the little girl. You're very perceptive. :-)

Thank you for reviewing. I really appreciate it and it does give me courage to keep on posting.

Thanks again to all and God bless. Randi.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Harry Potter and the Child Legilimens

Randi Weasley

SUMMARY: Harry Potter's family was warned by the Order that they should give him better care this summer. That clearly meant more free time and nutritious food. But, when Uncle Vernon throws a seven-year-old daughter into the equation, it's a roller-coaster ride wilder than any Gringotts' cart could provide. Rated PG for some mention of child abuse.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Last Time:

'Was my dad an outstanding auror?' Harry wondered. 'Did I really score an 'O' on my Potions OWL?' 'What did Professor Snape mean when he said part of the way he treated me had to do with the Dark Lord?' 'What...?'

Sitting there beside his sleeping daughter, Harry Potter's body finally gave in to the exhaustion and he slept, leaving the only alert figures in the garden the auror standing guard over the boy and the tabby cat hidden in the bushes.

'You did it, Harry!' cheered Minerva McGonagall. 'I knew you would. Oh, Severus will be totally livid when he shows up to request you in his NEWT class and finds out that you've been enrolled since the end of last term. He just hates it when I outguess him. Maybe I won't tell him that I've already enrolled you in the class. I'll let him think I'm doing it at his request. Yes, that's better. Anything else will just be my little secret."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Chapter 3

Interrogator Snape

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Albus Dumbledore paced from his office to the revolving escalator and back again. Where had the confounded woman gotten to this time? He couldn't believe that she had snuck out that noon to go to Privet Drive. Now here it was past midnight and she was missing again. He disliked the idea of disturbing Harry's guard to ask if she were there. Who knew if the guard were needing to operate under stealth for the moment or even if their location were secure? No, he decided, Minerva McGonagall would have to take care of herself. He knew, of course, that she was perfectly capable of doing so but had still worried about her since her return to school from St. Mungo's. But where could the confounded woman be? His thoughts went on for some time in that vein.

Finally, at 2:30 AM, the ward he'd placed on the gargoyle sounded. The tabby cat had bypassed the security statue and was currently sneaking up the revolving stairs. Really! After thirty-eight years of wedded bliss, one would think the intelligent deputy headmistress would know better than to pull that old stunt on him! Their marriage might have to be kept secret from all but a few close friends, however, even if they weren't husband and wife, Minerva should know better than to expect to get away with that! Striding to his office door, he flung it open in a fit of pique and stood at the top of the stairs awaiting the cat.

"Good morning, Minerva."

"Mew," came the reply.

"No, I do not wish to know where you have been. I am merely much relieved to see you've safely returned as I can now go to bed with a clear mind."

Turning around, he headed for his office but was stopped by the woman's voice behind him. "They do not even have blankets, Albus. The child was being covered with a towel Harry had nipped from the bath."

"You went into the house while the Dursleys were there?"

"Of course not! Harry brought the girl into the garden and Kingsley suggested that next time he bring a blanket too. Harry was rather distracted and replied that they had none."

"Distracted? Why was Harry distracted? Wait a minute. Kingsley suggested? The guard is to remain silent except in an emergency. Shouldn't an experienced auror know that?"

"Albus, Harry asked, almost begged, the guard to speak. He said he had a problem he needed to solve before Miranda awakened. It was the same as this afternoon when he asked me to come closer out of the shade. He—he's like a different boy since he left school for the summer. I can count on one hand the number of times in the past five years I've known him to ask anything for himself. Now I've heard him request help, of his own volition, twice in one day. He asked Severus to resume the Occlumency lessons as well, and I know that you were gearing up to do battle with him on that. Also his patience with the Dursleys far surpasses any amount of which I believed him capable."

"He asked Severus to resume the Occlumency lessons?" Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the age and the world's most difficult man to shock, seemed to have been reduced to echolalia by the latest surprise revealed in this amazing conversation.

His wife could not hide her delighted smirk as she dropped the next bombshell. If the man wanted to greet her at the stairs and treat her like she would treat an errant student, well, then Dumbledore just deserved whatever she could manage to dish out. And, oh! This was going to be good!

"He did. Furthermore, Severus agreed."

The headmaster's voice took on a high-pitched squeal of disbelief that Minerva only heard about once every decade and no one else heard at all. "Severus what?"

"He agreed. He also congratulated Harry on getting on 'O' on his Potions OWL. Plus, he stated that Harry would make an outstanding auror like his father."

'Where was Colin Creevy when you needed him?' Minerva wondered. It was quite vexing not to have a camera to capture the bug-eyed expression on Albus' face. He'd never admit to it without proof later. She was just glancing around the corridor searching for something to transfigure into a camera when her husband succeeded in pulling himself together, albeit with extreme difficulty. "Honestly, Albus," she stated then. "I'm wondering if that child doesn't have the both of them bewitched."

"You would know best about that, Minerva," laughed Dumbledore with a mysterious smile.

"What are you babbling about, Albus?" snapped McGonagall impatiently. "You know I'm not a Legilimens!"

"This does not fall within even Miranda's considerable powers of Legilimency. It is more like the power you used on me over forty years ago."

"Really! What...? I assure you, sir, that I never—"

"Oh, no?" queried Albus, twinkle back in his eyes. "How else do you explain a loony old coot like me falling for the prettiest witch of them all? I'm talking about love, Minerva. Both you and the child possess that ability in spades!"

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Meanwhile, Severus Snape was lying awake, musing on the change in his relationship to the Gryffindor Golden Boy. How young Potter treated Miranda had been one of the major factors, he decided. 'His bloody git of a father would not have done half of what he's done for the girl, and I know the Dursleys did not teach him that attitude growing up. So where did he learn such loving compassion with the pathetic role models he's had? Could he have inherited his mother's compassion even if he was so young when she died? Or are his past experiences making him that way? A desire to treat others as he wishes to be treated perhaps? A fear of hurting people as he has been hurt?' There could be many possible motives. Severus knew he would never be able to think of them all. "At any rate, it's been the saving of the girl," he muttered into the darkness. Then, deciding that was all that mattered at the moment, he rolled over and fell asleep almost instantly.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

In the garden of 4 Privet Drive, Harry was awakening to another eventful day. He once again carried the sleeping Miranda into the house and up the stairs. This time, however, she awakened as he dodged the noisy tread.

Setting her down on her cot, he stated simply, "If you're not tired, why don't you dress quietly before our breakfast arrives. It's a good idea to dress for breakfast sometimes."

"OK, Harry."

Dobby was so ecstatic at finding Miranda awake and dressed when he brought the food that Harry had to beg him to quiet down so he wouldn't awaken the Dursleys. After Miranda had swallowed her Strengthening Draught, Harry gave her another reading lesson while they waited the half-hour for the potion to clear her system.

She was quite excited at the discovery that she could already read fifteen words independently. She wanted to inform Professor Snape of that fact immediately, so Harry promised that after breakfast Miranda could borrow Hedwig to deliver a letter to the Potions Master. He secretly hoped the man would not respond with a Howler. It was mostly this thought that led him to suggest that Miranda begin the missive by thanking the man for letting them study out of his son's book.

Harry spelled out the words and Miranda covered an entire parchment writing in shaky capital letters:

Dear Professor Snape, (Here Harry had to explain what a comma was and teach the girl how to make one.)

Thank you for the book to teach me how to read. Harry counted and I can now read fifteen words. Thank you too for telling me how I could learn to read just fine. Harry said to thank you for the blankets too. I like mine a lot and the pillow too. I gave Harry his pillow back, so now we both have one.

Love,

Miranda

They had a long discussion about whether or not to sign her whole name but decided it was not necessary since Professor Snape already knew her.

The letter also led to a discussion of homonyms and the spellings of 'to,' 'too,' and 'two.' Miranda found this quite fascinating and they were still discussing it when they went downstairs to fix breakfast for the Dursleys.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were just entering the kitchen when Miranda started jumping up and down in excitement. "I thought of another one, Harry! 'Which' and 'witch!'"

Before the teen could so much as open his mouth to reply, Vernon Dursley had crossed the room to the child's side. He backhanded her up the side of her head with enough force to send her flying backward into the door of the kitchen broom cupboard. Her temple struck the metal handle and started to bleed profusely. Her body went limp and she crumpled to the floor.

"Don't you dare to discuss that unnatural freakishness in my house again, do you hear me, girl?" he bellowed.

Miranda did not move or speak, but Harry fled to her side with a cry of outrage. "No! Miranda! She wasn't discussing 'm-word' things. We've been studying homonyms. W-H-I-C-H and W-I-T-C-H are homonyms. If you've killed her, I swear I'll hex you into the next century. I don't care if they expel me for it! I—I'll hex you into oblivion even if it means I'll get thrown into Azkaban for life! I'll—"

The kitchen door exploded from its hinges with a bang that left the ears of the room's occupants ringing. First through the opening was Minerva McGonagall, wand in one hand and upraised walking stick in the other. She was followed closely by Tonks, neon-green hair curled tightly against her scalp, her normal fun-loving expression transfigured into that of a very angry auror. Last, but certainly not the least, to enter was one livid Potions Master.

"What have you done to this child?" demanded Tonks in a voice that booked no argument.

Severus had gone to kneel beside Miranda. He examined her temple and checked her pulse, then, grasping Harry's shoulders in both hands, gave him a rough shake. "She is not dead, Potter," he stated in his sternest tone, "but she has been rendered unconscious and most probably has a concussion. While that is serious, it is not life threatening. Listen to me, boy. She needs Madam Pomfrey. Will you consent to Hogwarts' medi-witch examining your daughter again?"

"Yes," fairly screamed Harry in a tone that mixed both hope and frustration. "If she would see Miranda, that would be wonderful! I—I'll pay her—and you—and everybody. I'll get a job, maybe two of them even, and I'll work really hard too. I'll—"

"Take care of your daughter, Harry?" suggested Tonks, coming over and laying a supportive hand on his shoulder. "She needs you with her now, not off somewhere trying to find a summer job. Let us handle what we can while we're willing to do it. You've time enough after all the dust has settled to worry about finding gainful employment."

'Gainful employment,' thought Snape darkly. 'With the entire Potter fortune waiting for him to come of age, he is carefully saving the galleons in his trust fund and talking of taking jobs to raise money. Has no one told the boy that, as Potter's only living heir, he is one of the richest personages in the wizarding world? But, of course not! The boy didn't even own a blanket to cover his daughter. This is shameful! He's the ruddy Boy-Who-Lived after all. He's supposed to be living the life of a pampered, spoiled brat. He—"

Severus' thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Albus Dumbledore and Poppy Pomfrey. While the nurse rushed straight to Miranda's side, Dumbledore headed for the Dursleys.

"P—pro—professor," Petunia stuttered.

"I want you unnatural freaks to get out of my house!" Vernon bellowed in his face.

"I'm very much afraid that your desires are secondary to the children's safety, Mr. Dursley," Albus replied. His tone, while civil enough on the surface, held a trace of warning that could rival Snape at his most dangerous. His anger radiated throughout the room.

Petunia had scurried to cower by the sink. "Let them alone, Vernon, please," she whispered fearfully.

"No!" Dursley bellowed. "I refuse to be intimidated anymore, especially not in my own home. It's too much! We took the boy in and kept him for ten years, and we pick him up and bring him home each summer. Since he heard about this coot's bloody school, there's been nothing but trouble. First there was that giant bloke who crashed in on us at midnight, put a pig's tail on own son, then stole our rowboat, leaving us stranded in the middle of the ocean. Later the boy returns with that lot of unnatural freaky things and a ruddy owl who hoots, caws, and delivers mail in front of the whole neighborhood. How freakish is that I ask you?

"The next summer the boy does some freakish hover thing and my biggest deal of the year is destroyed. Not only is the dessert ruined but an owl appears and attacks the client's wife who is deathly afraid of birds. The man even thought I'd set it up! When I rightfully try to punish the boy for that, he is whisked away in the wee hours of the morning by a flying car, which takes part of our house along with it. Then another business deal is ruined when a ruddy owl lands on our table and starts helping itself to the food on our plates. Unnatural freakishness just to inform us that the boy had detention for taking the flying car to school, and, if we wished to communicate with the boy, we could use the bird, the one who was currently helping itself to the dearest cuts of meat the butchers had to sell.

"The next summer we have Marge bobbing on the ceiling, and a whole squadron of freaks invade our home and mess with her mind so that she forgets the incident. That year the boy returns from school and tells us he has a convicted murderer for a godfather. The man, he claims, had recently escaped from prison and is on the run but wants to keep close tabs on how the boy is doing.

"After that, some ruddy bloke and his sons get stuck in our fireplace and blow up half our living room getting out. Just as they're finally disappearing in those freaky green flames, Dudley's tongue grows meters long and starts flopping around on the floor. You can't tell me that's a natural occurrence! Then a ruddy owl comes with an invitation for me to leave my job and travel to that freak school myself to watch him compete in some unnatural thing.

"Last summer, the dementoids attack our son and owls start arriving from everywhere. The boy tells me the dead freak who killed his parents has come back to life again and doesn't refute the idea that the ghost is after him! When I try to throw Potter out and protect my family, another owl invades our home to deliver a screaming envelope to my wife.

"This year the boy has, not only a murderous godfather but also a whole freaky gang who meet us at the station and threaten our health and safety. Now our kitchen door is blasted halfway across the room, and you all stroll in uninvited and most certainly unwelcome. Now you may all leave the way you came and fix the bloody door too!"

For a moment, there was silence following Vernon's rampage, and then Albus spoke calmly. "I must apologize to you, Mr. Dursley. I was unaware of the pig's tail. I shall speak with my gamekeeper about it upon his return to school after the holiday. I shall also be certain that you are reimbursed for any expense that cost you."

Vernon seemed slightly appeased, but only slightly.

"I shall also," continued the headmaster, "fix the bloody door if the magic of doing so will not further upset you."

"We—we need our door fixed, Dear," commented Petunia.

Dumbledore used Dursley's distraction with this comment to fix the door unnoticed.

"Where are we taking the children, Albus?" asked Poppy. "How far she is traveling will make a difference in how I treat the girl now."

"She is traveling upstairs to her bed," replied the headmaster. "We can't move Harry at this time, and there's very little sense in moving the girl alone. It would only further traumatize her."

"That is true," said Harry quickly, when he noticed the nurse opening her mouth to argue. "She panicked last evening when she awakened while I was down here serving dinner."

There was a momentary silence before Snape stated in his snarkiest tone, " I believe caring for a child with a congenital illness is enough to keep Potter busy this summer. I promise you, if the child is not cared for because you had Potter busy doing other things, as the child's healer I will have you hauled up on charges so quickly that you won't know what happened before it is finished." He leveled his most menacing glare on the Dursleys.

"S—Sev—Severus?" gasped Petunia, turning pale.

"So you remember, do you, Mrs. Dursley?" The Potions Master's voice sounded truly dangerous then. This child has the same disorder as Little Sal. My potions are managing the symptoms and permitting her to live. If you Muggles jeopardize that in any manner, I will go out of my way to personally assure that neither of you see daylight for a long time to come."

Noticing Vernon's surprise, he continued, "Your wife's sister was a dear friend of my wife. Lily tried to help distract Anyn from her all-consuming grief at the death of our infant son. Your wife met mine several times before her death. Anyn dragged me to Lily's wedding and Lily dragged Petunia to Anyn's funeral. One of the last projects my wife undertook before her death was to attempt to help your wife plan Lily's bridal shower."

Everybody was staring at the Potion Master then. Only Albus had known of this information beforehand, and Tonks had not even known of the marriage. Harry opened his mouth several times as though he wished to speak only to close it again just as quickly each time. His eyes, bugging out of his head, gave him a definite resemblance to a fish out of water.

Severus stared back at the boy. Finally he asked in a defeated tone Harry did not think the man capable of, "Well, what is it, Potter?"

"Er," replied Harry. "You—er—knew my mum? After she graduated Hogwarts, I mean. No—no one's told me of my mum before, sir. What did she do before I was born, please?"

Minerva McGonagall spoke up then, before Severus could formulate a reply. "I suspect that's because you grew up living with her sister, Harry. I'd always assumed that you heard more about your mother than your father, so I spoke of James to try to balance things out a bit."

"The only things I've heard about either of my parents in this house were that they were killed in a car crash and my father was an unemployed sloth who lived off the charity of others. Hagrid told me before my first year how Mum and Dad really died though."

"Your father," spoke up Madam Pomfrey, in a gentle tone, "was a brilliant auror who saved my life as well as many other lives in the last war. Your mother had a remarkable gift for wandless healing, as well as charms. She was training to be a healer when she became pregnant with you. Then she decided to take a break from training and devote herself to motherhood. She was just as talented at that as at the other things."

"My mum was a healer?" Harry was amazed by this news.

"She was training for one," Severus replied then. "We were apprenticed in the same program at St. Mungo's. My wife met your mother at the Christmas party our first year. They were always dreaming up some way to get James and me to become friends, so we saw a lot of each other after that. The hospital had your mother give several talks and demonstrations of her wandless healing. Her powers were really amazing. The masters often told the rest of us apprentices that the only person known to have more power for wandless healing is Albus Dumbledore. Many people tried to talk her out of leaving the program, but she was insistent that her more important responsibility was to her child. Little Sal had died only a little over a year before and my wife, Anyn, three months later. She worried about hurting me when she expressed that belief so openly to the group, but I admired her for that."

"Mum had powers like Professor Dumb—" Harry began, but stopped when Miranda opened groggy eyes with a moan. "How are you feeling, Mite?"

"My—my head hurts a lot, Harry."

"Poor dear," murmured Poppy. "I'm sure it does." She handed over a cloudy blue potion. "Swallow this and it should start to feel a lot better."

Severus helped the child prop herself up against the offending door, and she obediently swallowed the potion before closing her eyes again.

"If—if she has a concussion, shouldn't we keep her awake?" Harry asked tentatively.

"The concussion is healed. Sleep is what the child needs most now," Pomfrey assured him.

Severus gathered the girl into his arms. "Where is her room, Potter? I will see her safely in bed and be certain that you have the necessary supplies for her."

For a moment, a look of terror crossed Harry's face. He had always hidden as much as possible of his life at the Dursleys'. Now his most-hated teacher, the person he least wanted to show weakness in front of, had invited himself to Harry's bedroom where one glance around would surely tell all. This man, while a mean and nasty git, was far from stupid. Harry had little doubt that none of his carefully guarded secrets would survive this day. Professor Snape might be acting in an extremely mellow manner about Miranda, but Harry felt he'd best not trust that to cross over to himself, especially after his return to Hogwarts when no other adults were watching and Snape had the Slytherins to back him with their gloating. After all, the only time the Potions Master had been around him this summer without another adult present was the night of Miranda's arrival and Snape had still reverted his snarky self, even in front of Dumbledore, once he'd gotten over the initial shock. Yesterday afternoon, Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore had both been present and last night in the garden, Snape must have known Kingsley was there, albeit hidden under an invisibility cloak. Miranda needed supplies though, the git had suggested, and Harry was sure he could not get them from the Dursleys. So the man must come to his room. Harry would just have to make sure that he didn't figure out much.

"Er. OK. She's sharing my room. This way please, sir."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Upstairs, Harry watched nervously as Snape eyed the multiple locks on the door before turning a bemused gaze on the cat flap. The locks were somewhat self-explanatory, but why would the Muggles have a cat flap on his bedroom door and no others? Severus had not missed either the hesitation or the fear in the boy's eyes downstairs. That made him even more certain than before that something besides breakfast and blankets was missing in Harry's life. He was determined to find out what was needed and supply it, if it were at all in his power to do so. Anyn and Little Sal would want as much, he knew. Also he'd been correct in saying Lily Potter and Anyn Snape had become the dearest of friends, and Lily had done all in her considerable powers to try to help both his wife and son. That seemed to imply some debt on his part, and Harry was the only Potter left alive to receive payment.

"Potter, if you have an owl, why are you permitting the cat such easy access to your room?"

"We don't have a cat, sir," stated Harry in embarrassment, hoping that would end the conversation.

No such luck however. "But you do have a cat flap on your bedroom door."

"I didn't put it there!" snapped the boy desperately wishing this professor had never seen his door.

"Has it always been there then?" Snape was not giving up. Something was definitely amiss with this flap, and Potter's stubbornness would not keep him from finding out what that something was.

For a moment or two, Harry was sorely tempted to lie and say that he'd inherited the room with the flap in place. If this were Tonks, Madam Pomfrey or even Professor McGonagall before him, he knew he'd get away with it too. But Snape was too good a Legilimens. He'd have the truth anyway and probably make Harry's life very miserable as punishment for lying to him.

"No, sir, it was installed after my first year," he admitted reluctantly.

"Ah," nodded the Potions Master. "Would that be before or after you were whisked away in the Weasleys' flying car?"

"Er. Before, sir."

"And when did the door acquire all these locks, Potter? You hardly seem the type to be so paranoid over protecting your possessions."

Harry did not appreciate the way this conversation—no, he corrected himself grimly—this grilling was going. He was definitely going to have to get himself out of the situation and the sooner the better. Rather despondently, he realized the fastest way to do that was to anger the man before him. He only wished it were safer than he feared. Well, no time like the present to begin.

"Are you awake, Mite?" he whispered gently. Receiving no answer from the limp form in the man's arms, he judged it safe to assume he would not be overheard as he replied in cool anger.

"Since when do you know what type I seem, Professor Snape? You've hated me ever since I first arrived at Hogwarts. You never miss a chance to bait me, give detentions, or take House points. You constantly criticize my father while telling me how much like him I am in all the bad ways. I know you apologized and said none of that should have happened, but here you are baiting me again, sir. How can you expect me to seriously consider your apology if you are back to your same behavior less than twelve hours after giving it? For your information, sir, I would never behave like I saw my father do, not even with Draco Malfoy. I might be my father's son, but I am not my father, sir. S—Sirius even said how I was different from James Potter, though he found that a big disappointment. But, while you've spent a lot more time around me than Sirius had, you never noticed that, Professor. I realize, as my godfather, Sirius had more incentive for doing so, but I doubt you even bothered to try at all. I repeat, therefore, how would you know what type of person I am?"

Severus mentally kicked himself. He had slipped back into the behavior of which the boy was accusing him. However, it seemed to be the only way to get a true conversation started with the Gryffindor. But the boy's tone would reduce him to cold anger much too quickly to gain any information. He therefore adopted a cool tone of his own as he responded. "I might have revised my opinion of you, Potter, but I still will not permit you to address me in that tone. I am an adult and your professor, two very good reasons to show respect. Now, after Miranda is put to bed, we may quietly continue this discussion privately in your room or publicly downstairs with the others. The choice is entirely your own."

"I have no desire to continue this—discussion—at all!" snapped Harry. That was the honest truth! Snape had only noticed the locks and cat flap so far and Harry was already panicked that the man knew too much.

"That is not your choice to make, Potter. We members of the Order wish to ensure your safety and well being. Therefore, I will ask my questions and you will answer in a respectful tone and to the best of your ability—limited as that may be."

Harry's eyes flashed. The git was truly insufferable! Then a horrible thought entered his mind. Snape had sent a Howler to Miranda's father when the man had requested his help, even when he thought Miranda had died because of it. Harry desperately needed this man's potions for Miranda, and he even more desperately needed this offer of supplies, whatever they might be. The Dursleys certainly had offered nothing. If he angered the Potions Master too much, mightn't the man withdraw all help and potions? Miranda would surely die then. Therefore, he forced himself to respond in what he hoped was a civil enough tone, even though the words were pushed out through a tight jaw and clenched teeth. "Fine. We will—discuss—things in my room as long as Miranda is asleep. When she awakens, however, the—discussion—is finished, whether you wish it to be or not, sir."

Once inside the room, Snape took in everything at a glance: the lack of space, broken toys, rickety furniture, and absence of linens on the worn, lumpy mattresses. He had already seen the condition and size of Harry's clothing.

The teen motioned for him to lay Miranda on top of her cotton throw, and then he covered the girl with the one from his bed. "Thank you for these blankets, Professor," he whispered, before quietly setting his desk chair at the foot of his bed.

"You are welcome, Potter. I only wish to see what else you have need of," Severus responded. "This is not meant to harm you in any way."

With a nod, Harry motioned him to the chair then before crawling onto his bed and leaning against the wall, facing the professor.

"The locks on the door," Snape prompted, after a moment's silence. "When did they appear?"

"Around the same time as the cat flap, sir."

"I see. You did not request them, I gather."

"No," Harry replied with a rueful smile. "I did not request them, sir."

"So you have been imprisoned here before." It was not a question.

"Yes, sir."

"And the part of the house the Weasley twins tore away with were the metal bars which used to be on your window."

Harry, who had been studying his bare toes, glanced up in surprise then. How had the Potions Master known about that? "Yes, sir."

"When were the bars put up?" Severus' experience as a spy was the only thing permitting him to calmly continue this discussion. What he felt like doing was screaming in rage. No one except Molly had believed the story the Weasleys' youngest three boys told of that night. Now it seemed the brats had been correct after all.

"At the same time as the locks and the cat flap, sir."

"After the dinner party with the paranoid woman your uncle spoke of downstairs?"

"The morning after, sir," Harry nodded.

"Why don't you tell me about it?" the man invited gently.

For a moment, it seemed as if Potter were going to scream out a paranoid refusal. Then, glancing at the girl asleep on the cot, the boy visibly shook himself and forced an answer.

"Very well, sir, if you wish to know." The entire story was forthcoming then. The Boy-Who-Lived spoke for the first time about the lack of mail, forgotten birthday, frying pan aimed at his head, afternoon of enforced chores, pitiful excuse of a dinner, and banishment to his room. He told of finding Dobby, the house elf's warning, his own refusal to promise not to return to Hogwarts, the crash of the hovering pudding, and the warning owl from the Ministry of Magic. "That's when the Dursleys found out that I wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school. The bars and locks went up the next morning. The cat flap was installed so Aunt Petunia could shove food in to me and I could shove the dishes back out. Uncle Vernon had promised that I'd never be returning to school or seeing my 'freaky friends,' as he called them, again."

"You have been locked in your room more recently than that summer as well, am I right?" asked Snape. "The Order members who came for you last year said they'd found your door locked."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed.

Arising from his chair, Severus crossed the room to the door and aimed his wand at each lock in turn. When he returned to the seat, he was holding a gold key. "This will unlock all the locks but only from your side of the door. Be careful with it, Potter. Don't lose it, and don't let it be seen. You need a way to escape this room, should such become necessary. Now let's talk about your next most noticeable need, food."

After seeing the hiding place under the floorboards, Snape recast the freshening charm on the remaining food. With a wave of his wand, he conjured canned goods and an opener as well as silverware and bottles of water. "This will prevent you both from starving at any rate. Now for bedding."

After both beds had been made up with linens, fluffy pillows and comforters, with extra bedding stored under the head of Miranda's cot, Severus turned his attention to the furniture. Several 'reparo's later, the familiar furnishings no longer appeared about to collapse in a strong wind. Lastly, the Potions Master turned his attention on Hedwig's cage, whispering several charms over it. "She will now have adequate food and water, Potter, and be able to break any locks put on her cage should the need arise. Remember to write the Order every three days or we will send someone into the house to check on you. Expect Miranda's potions to be restocked the day after tomorrow. Goodbye." With that, he was out the door in a billow of black robes, leaving one stunned Gryffindor and one sleeping child Legilimens behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except some old clothes and the computer I'm typing this on, (which is a different one than I used for the first three chapters). Other people own everything else. J.K. Rowlings and others own all things Harry Potter. I'm merely borrowing them for the fun of it.

Author's Note: I no longer own either the old car or the broken porch swing. My dog is no longer with me. I honestly did not mean for this fic to go SO long without an update! I think it's been about four years now. I have been continuing to write, but have had no way to post. I was very sick, even when I began writing this fic. Shortly after my last update, I was put into the hospital for three bone surgeries in less than two weeks time. After that, I was placed into a nursing home, bedridden for six months. Talk about a culture shock! It's a whole 'nother world out there that I wasn't prepared for at all. (And, no, Shelley, if you're still reading, not all people in nursing homes are elderly folks. My old nursing home even had two people in it who were younger than I was.) Writing this fic is one of the things that helped me keep my sanity, I think. OK, it may sound strange, but it's true.

This is my first "Chapter" fic. PLEASE take a moment to review and honestly tell me what you think of it! Thank you and God bless. Randi.

Harry Potter and the Child Legilimens

Randi Weasley

SUMMARY: Harry Potter's family was warned by the Order that they should give him better care this summer. That clearly meant more free time and nutritious food. But, when Uncle Vernon throws a seven-year-old daughter into the equation, it's a roller-coaster ride wilder than any Gringotts' cart could provide. Rated PG for some mention of child abuse.

Last Time: "You have been locked in your room more recently than that summer as well, am I right?" asked Snape. "The Order members who came for you last year said they'd found your door locked."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed.

Arising from his chair, Severus crossed the room to the door and aimed his wand at each lock in turn. When he returned to the seat, he was holding a gold key. "This will unlock all the locks but only from your side of the door. Be careful with it, Potter. Don't lose it, and don't let it be seen. You need a way to escape this room, should such become necessary. Now let's talk about your next most noticeable need, food."

After seeing the hiding place under the floorboards, Snape recast the freshening charm on the remaining food. With a wave of his wand, he conjured canned goods and an opener as well as silverware and bottles of water. "This will prevent you both from starving at any rate. Now for bedding."

After both beds had been made up with linens, fluffy pillows and comforters, with extra bedding stored under the head of Miranda's cot, Severus turned his attention to the furniture. Several 'reparo's later, the familiar furnishings no longer appeared about to collapse in a strong wind. Lastly, the Potions Master turned his attention on Hedwig's cage, whispering several charms over it. "She will now have adequate food and water, Potter, and be able to break any locks put on her cage should the need arise. Remember to write the Order every three days or we will send someone into the house to check on you. Expect Miranda's potions to be restocked the day after tomorrow. Goodbye." With that, he was out the door in a billow of black robes, leaving one stunned Gryffindor and one sleeping child Legilimens behind him.

Chapter 4

Beginnings

When Miranda awakened several hours later, the two went back downstairs. Harry was disappointed but not entirely surprised to find that the wizards were gone. It was very surprising, however, to have Aunt Petunia say, "Get yourselves a glass of milk and an apple each. Then we have to go shopping."

"Oh, goody!" cried Miranda. "I love shopping!" The girl gasped then and threw a hand over her mouth, as if she couldn't believe what she had just dared to say.

Petunia, uncharacteristically, ignored the comment. She only said, "Hurry it up. We haven't got all day." Harry quickly got the food. Indeed, Miranda had no sooner thrown her apple core into the bin when the woman hurried them out the door to the waiting automobile. "They've eaten and we're leaving now," she announced to thin air. "Will you be coming with us, or do you just want to follow our auto?"

Severus Snape appeared in front of Harry, wearing a pair of Muggle trousers and a khaki cotton shirt. His hair was pulled back and tied with a leather owl thong. The expression he turned on Petunia as he folded the Invisibility Cloak, however, was entirely too familiar to Harry. "Would it not attract a lot of attention in the neighborhood to have me running behind your vehicle? It might even attract unwanted attention from the Muggle police once we reached the motor way." Without waiting for permission, he opened the front passenger door and climbed in.

Petunia wordlessly opened the back door before walking around the vehicle to take her seat behind the wheel. Motioning Miranda in, Harry followed her into the auto, closing the door behind himself.

Once they had left the neighborhood, Petunia ventured to speak in a shaky voice. "Is that disease the girl has the same one Lilly wanted Harry and that other boy tested for when they were born, Severus?"

"Legilimens' Lament is not a disease," sneered the Potions master. "It is what you Muggles would call a birth defect. No one can 'catch' the disorder from Miranda, as they might catch dragon pox, you know."

Harry made no comment, but he silently decided to ask someone at his earliest opportunity why his mother would want him tested for a disease at birth. He had just about decided that Hagrid would be the most likely person to give him an honest answer, when Snape continued, "Yes, Lilly and James had requested that Harry be tested at birth, because Lilly was becoming an accomplished Legilimens when she became pregnant. She had not, however, progressed to the point where it was a danger to her fetus. In Potter's case, it was strictly precautionary. The other boy's parents were both Auror-Legilimens, which is the highest level of Legilimency training available. It turned out to be a waste of my time to test either of them. Potter had very little risk of being born with the disorder, and Neville Longbottom's only accomplishment, at birth or since, has been his flawless ineptitude."

'Neville?' thought Harry. 'I know we were born around the same time, but-'

Petunia was speaking again, however, and Harry listened intently, not wanting to miss a word. "Auror-Legilimens? If Lily was a Legilimens and James an auror, wouldn't that mean-?" She broke off, hesitantly, as if she suddenly regretted having spoken at all.

"Wouldn't that have made Harry as much at risk as the Longbottom boy?" sneered Snape. When the woman did not respond, he continued in his snarkiest tone, "In his case, both parents were aurors and extremely accomplished Legilimens. He definitely possessed the genetic chance of developing the condition. Lily was not even close to approaching Auror-Legilimens status and Potter was not a Legilimens of any stripe. There was much more likelihood to have Neville Longbottom developing with the condition than Harry. I agreed to come and test him more out of friendship than for any chance that Harry would have need of my potions."

'Umm,' thought Harry, 'Neville could have been sick like Miranda is. He certainly has some of the same characteristics that Miranda has. I wonder if that test was accurate. Might Neville have Legilimens' Lament after all? Could that be why he acted like a Squib for so long? Could the disorder not have killed him, but affected his powers somehow? He certainly is a genius at Herbology. That doesn't really require a lot of magical ability. Of course, neither does Potions, but Snape has been so terrible to him that that could definitely prevent Neville from excelling in Potions as he does in Herbology.'

"What is dragon pox, please?" asked Miranda suddenly.

"A disease that people usually get when they are children," Severus said when no one else had spoken for a long moment. "Almost everyone only gets it once in their lifetime. It is caught by being exposed to someone else while they have the disease. Parents are usually glad, in a way, for that reason, when their children get it as youngsters, because when adults get it, they can become very sick indeed."

"Have you ever had it, Harry?" Miranda inquired then.

"No, I don't think so, Mite, I-"

"Both you and Dudley got chicken pox when you were four," Petunia interrupted. "You were over it quickly enough, but Dudders had run a high fever, and had to be put to bed for almost two weeks."

Thinking back, Harry thought he remembered something like that. "It made me itch all over," he said at last. "I remember Dudley had to wear like mittens or something."

"That was to keep him from hurting himself when he scratched," said Aunt Petunia. "How you avoided lasting scars, I'll never know. Determined to scratch and pick at yourself as you were."

"Some people might have said he needed special mittens as well, uumm?" Snape asked with caustic interest.

Petunia set her jaw and did not answer.

They continued in this awkward silence until they had reached the shopping district. Then Aunt Petunia pulled up in front of a children's shoe store. Taking a fifty-pound note from her purse, she passed it over the back of the seat to Harry. "Buy the both of you a pair of shoes. I have someplace else to go. I'll return in one hour. Try to be ready."

Harry gaped at her. "You-- you want us to buy shoes? New shoes? For ourselves?"

Petunia's face took on its customary expression when confronted with a question from Harry. "Out! Now!"

Miranda nearly broke her hand trying to force the unfamiliar door handle down. Indeed, by the time she, Harry, and Severus were standing on the pavement, she had passed the point of tears and was approaching hysterics.

"Stop this nonsense immediately!" Snape commanded in his silkiest of dangerously low tones. Nevertheless, he took the offended hand in his and gently examined each finger in turn. "It is only a minor sprain," he added in a calmer tone. Massaging it with his other hand, he whispered a charm.

Miranda's sobs died away to hiccups.

"You need to act more like your age," the man continued. "That small injury couldn't possibly have hurt enough to merit that degree of performance."

"I hadn't even noticed that my hand was hurt, Professor Snape, but thank you for fixing it anyway. It does feel better now."

"Yes, sir, thank you very--" Harry began. Severus didn't appear to even register his presence however.

"If you were not crying with pain, then what--" His voice trailed away as his eyes widened in understanding.

Harry would have given a lot for some of that understanding. HE was thoroughly confused. When Miranda had been unable to open the door and had hurt her hand, he'd found that an understandable reason for a little kid to cry, though Snape might have had a point about the volume and intensity of the tears. But the girl had just stated that she hadn't even noticed the pain in her hand. Dudley used to fake noisy tears to get his own way with his mother, but Miranda hadn't asked for anything, nor had a promise been broken to her.

"You mean you were scared because you couldn't get the door open, Mite?" he asked, though rather doubtfully.

"No, Harry," sniffled the girl. "Well, maybe a little bit, but you know how she feels? Well, it was worse than that!"

When Harry only remained silent, clearly waiting for something more to be said, Severus finally spoke up. "Many people have those strong emotions. Often things will seem that bad or even worse, Miranda. If you continue to react that violently to each situation, however, you will end up being the one hurt. Not the least of it is that Petunia and Vernon Dursley will not tolerate it. Nor should Harry. You did not train for your ability as Professor Dumbledore and I have done, but you need to learn to deal with the side effects the same as we have. Through some quirk or other, you have more ability to be affected by them than adults, and therefore have a greater need of learning to combat them."

"How would she combat them, Professor?" Harry asked.

"The best way is with Occlumency, Potter," Severus glanced around to make sure no one was near enough to overhear them before answering. "This is neither the appropriate time nor place to discuss it, however. Only enough need be said to get through this trip in one piece with all our sanity intact. Speaking of the trip, we are here for a reason. Let's get on with it." Turning, he led the girl into the establishment.

'Right,' Harry thought grimly, following Miranda through the door. 'It's no concern of his what would best help my daughter. He's only here because nobody else could stay, I'll wager, just like Dumbledore said that first night. Greasy-haired git!' Glancing around the small shop, he noticed Snape watching him in the security mirror; by the man's expression Harry could tell he had Legilimened the thought. He glared back at the reflection of the elder wizard, unrepentant.

"These are the shoes Auntie Nell let me wear on the plane, Harry-Daddy!" Miranda called excitedly from a display in the middle of the floor.

"Let's see then, Mite!" Harry put a bright tone into his voice, but his mood never got the chance to brighten with it. One look at the price tag told him it was no good. "I'm really sorry, Mite. These cost more money than I can spend."

"That's OK, Harry." But the girl's eyes hurt Harry's chest somehow.

"They would be appropriate as a birthday gift or Christmas present," Severus added grimly, "but they are far too dear for a necessary purchasing trip. No, they certainly are not the thing we are after today."

"When is your birthday, Mite?" Harry asked then.

"December twentieth, Harry. Daddy always told me that I was his Christmas package not tied with a bow." Her chin quivered. "Do you think I can still be his Christmas package even though he's an angel now, and I'm not one yet?"

"I think so, Mite," said Harry gently.

"And I'm sure of it!" came a jolly voice from behind the pair. Turning, Harry found a beaming salesman standing there. "Fathers never forget things like that, little girl," the man continued. "Such love is forever."

"Forever and ever and even another forever?" asked Miranda then.

"As many forevers as you want to say, little girl. That kind of love never goes away."

Miranda beamed back at him, all traces of sorrow forgotten. "Thank you, sir!"

"You're very welcome and my name is Fred, by the way. How may I help you today?"

"How do you do, Mr. Fred? My name is Miranda, and Harry and I both need new shoes please, but I don't think we have a lot of money."

"It's very nice to meet you, Miranda. Let me see. I'm sure we can find something that will suit."

"Sure of a great many things, are you?" Severus' tone was scathing. "The part about not a lot of money is all too accurate."

Fred only smiled more broadly still. "My paycheck is not dependant on stealing from children, sir. What sizes do the young people wear?"

"Uh, I don't think we know for sure," Harry stated when Snape only glared.

"Not a problem, Mr. Potter," replied Fred. "That's what measurements are for."

'How does he know my name?' Harry wondered.

Snape grabbed his arm in a painful grip as the salesman moved off. "Cover up that blasted scar now!" he hissed, pushing Harry after the man before following along behind with Miranda.

Reaching up to feel of his forehead, Harry suddenly understood what had probably happened. His head had been sweaty from the summer heat and when he had wiped his brow, his wet bangs had clumped together, leaving the scar exposed. Smoothing out the offending hair, he thought, 'But that still doesn't explain how he knew my name.'

"He's a Squib," came Miranda's voice from behind him. "His family has been talking of you for fourteen years."

"We certainly have been doing that, Miranda," grinned Fred, apparently only hearing the last part of the girl's statement. "How did I give away which world I come from? Was it truly only knowing your cousin's name?"

"What else could it have been?" Snape asked sneeringly, holding Miranda's shoulder firmly as he glared at her. "None of us have been to this establishment before."

The girl closed her mouth silently.

"Oh, well," laughed the salesman then, rivalling even Dedalus Diggle at his most bubbly. "I've never had a famous customer before-- let alone one like Harry Potter. I can't wait to get off, so I can write my mum of it."

Severus just glared at the man with that look he usually reserved for Gryffindors at their most unruly.

"Uh, which shall I measure first?"

"Miranda, please," said Harry quickly. And so it was accomplished.

At length, a pair of oxfords and pink kitty slippers were found for Miranda and new trainers and a pair of bed shoes for Harry. Miranda, he guessed, didn't care much for the oxfords but the kitten heads on the slippers made up for it. The bill came to forty-two pounds even.

On the sidewalk waiting for Aunt Petunia, Severus lectured Miranda about the importance of supportive shoes in her condition. "I want to hear that you are wearing those oxfords at least eight hours daily, unless you are in bed sick." he stated firmly. "For a few hours a day, you may wear your sandals. Your slippers are to be worn only within the house. The soles are not appropriate for outside wear."

"Yes, sir, Professor Snape," she agreed, albeit with a pout.

When Petunia arrived, she did not even pull up to the curb. Rolling down the window, she snapped, "Let's go! We haven't got all day." So Harry, Miranda and Snape all crowded into the backseat. It was a huge relief to Harry, crammed against the door handle, that they only drove three blocks before Petunia pulled over and parked outside the clothing store where she bought all Dudley's clothes. "Get out and come to the window, Boy!"

When Harry had obeyed, she handed out a 100-pound note. "Go inside & buy yourself some clothes that fit. The girl has enough clothing now. She can stay with me."

"I don't think so," sneered Severus, opening his own door and exiting the vehicle, pulling Miranda out after him. "The children are both under guard, whether you join us or not. And Molly Weasley reckons that Miranda needs at least four new pairs of knickers. At her size, Ginny Weasley did not have a great need of Muggle undergarments."

"Oh, right then," Harry said when Petunia did not respond. "What size knickers do you use, Mite?"

"What are knickers, Harry?"

"Umm, er, well--"

Aunt Petunia shoved open her door with an exasperated sigh. Harry only just succeeded in jumping out of the way in time to keep from being bowled over. Severus was not so fortunate and caught the offending door in the knee.

"Oh, for mercy's sake!" exclaimed the woman, climbing from the auto. "I'll buy the knickers too or we'll be here all afternoon with no supper to show for it. But if your uncle asks, Boy, I only bought her the shoes. Come on!" Grabbing Miranda's arm from Snape, she dragged the girl, whimpering, into the store.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Dursley," greeted the proprieter with a most welcoming smile. "Where is your strapping boy today? We have a new line, just in, they are. I'm sure he'll love them. All our teenage boys are lining up to buy them."

"Dudley isn't with me today, Mr. Friske," Aunt Petunia said, affecting a light tone. "We merely stopped in to see if you were carrying them yet. He'll be back with me soon to look at them. Good day!"

"Let's go!" she snapped, pushing Harry backwards into Severus, shoving Miranda into him and slamming the door of the store vehind her. "This was a huge mistake. Get back in the car. We're leaving."

Snape appeared to be muttering curses to himself as he trailed behind the trio. It became apparent that he had not been doing quite that when Remus Lupin, wearing worn denim jeans and a crisp new shirt with pictures of howling wolves painted on it, sauntered up to the group as they were about to enter the auto. "Mind if I join you, Harry?"

"Even if he does, you're still coming, of course!" snapped the potions master, by way of greeting.

"I was endeavoring to be mannerly, Severus," Remus winked at Harry. "It can make the day seem brighter for everyone."

Miranda giggled, recalling herself to Harry's mind in the instant.

"No, sir, I don't mind at all," he beamed at the man as he spoke. "I'd like you to meet my daughter, Miranda Bentley. This is Professor Lupin, Miranda."

"How do you do, sir. It's very nice to meet you."

"I'm well. It's very nice to meet you too, Miranda." Lupin shook hands with the girl as he spoke.

"And this is my-- er, our aunt, Petunia Dursley," Harry continued. "Aunt Petunia, this is Remus Lupin."

"We've met before." Petunia's voice was frigid. She was staring in horror at Remus' shirt, as if she believed it would come to life and attack her at any moment.

"Remus?" queried Miranda when Lupin made no reply to Petunia's comment. "I like your name, Professor Lupin."

"Thank you very much, Miranda," said Lupin with a light bow. "I like your name as well."

"If you're coming with us, you can sit behind Severus," Petunia climbed into the auto and inserted the key into the ignition as she spoke. "In less than one minute, I'm pulling out of this parking space. Anyone not in their seats before that happens gets left behind."

Piling into the vehicle with Miranda, Harry settled her on his knees to give Lupin room to climb in the cramped rear section. Only when both men were settled with seat belts snapped did he reach out to close his door. The glare he received from his aunt, via the rear-view mirror, bothered him not at all. He was glad Lupin had joined them and most unwilling for him to be left behind.

"Thank you, sir." Miranda continued the interrupted conversation as the auto exited the parking lot. "My mommy and daddy gave that name to me before they became angels. Pro-- professor Dumbledore says no one can make them stop being angels and come back to me." Her voice sounded wistful.

"I'm afraid that Professor Dumbledore is right, Miranda."

The girl sighed and her chin began to quiver. "Mr. Fred, though, said I would always be daddy's Christmas package not tied with a bow, forever and forever and forever I would be." She gazed at the man hopefully.

"Of course you will be!" Remus smiled gently as he spoke. "My dad died too and even though I'm all grown up, I'm still his 'Mussy', as he used to call me when I was little."

"What did your daddy call you, please, Harry?" asked Miranda then.

"Er, I don't really know, Mite. My mummy and daddy died when I was only one year old. I-- I don't remember much of them at all."

"'Sonny Boy' is what James called you most often," Lupin volunteered , "unless he wanted to annoy your mother, that is. Then he called you 'Pickles'."

Miranda giggled again.

"'Pickles'!" exclaimed Harry in surprise.

"Because you have your mother's green eyes," Remus explained. "The one thing she got detention for when she was at school was duelling with another student who called her 'Pickle Eyes.'"

Harry thought of Ginny and her first-year poem: 'His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad...' "Was the student a boy?" he asked.

"As a matter of fact, he was."

"I bet he had a crush on her. Was it my dad?"

"No," Remus said thoughtfully. "Your mum and dad got together in seventh-year, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. I hope if that other boy did have a crush on her, he got over it before then so that didn't make him sad."

Snape, seated in the front seat, made a strangled sound in his throat.

"I'm not so sure there was a crush to get over," Remus said lightly. "It could have been nothing more than a case of house rivalry."

They had pulled up in front of a moderate-sized department store. In the bustle of all five climbing out and Aunt Petunia fussing in her usual manner about locking the doors and closing them tight (but not too hard) the conversation was dropped.

Inside the store, the five split into two groups. Remus took Harry to the boys' department while Snape accompanied Petunia and Miranda to girlswear. "How are you managing, Harry? Everything as good as is possible with a congenitally-ill seven-year-old daughter suddenly dropped into your lap?" Lupin held a pair of denims before Harry to check the size as he spoke.

"Well, Snape told her something today about her needing to learn to--," Harry faltered, trying to remember the words Severus had used. "I-- I don't remember, but like block or something, but when I asked him how she did that, he snapped that it wasn't the time or place to discuss it and the only important thing was getting through this trip with everyone's sanity intact. How can I teach her to do something if no one even tells me what that thing is? I know he's a greasy git who cares only about himself. I can even accept that he hates me more than he hates anyone else, but I don't want him to act that way with my child!"

Lupin just stared mildly back at the frustrated teen, reproving neither the lack of title nor the name 'git'. Indeed, until Harry had visibly relaxed with a sigh, the man said nothing at all. Then he spoke quietly with a sigh of his own. "Yet, he took on Albus Dumbledore, removed you from Privet Drive against the strongest of orders not to do so, and delivered you to Dumbledore's office under Dumbledore's very nose all because Miranda had been without potions for five days. Seems to me, if he were as self-serving as you state, he would have taken a less risky tack, no matter what the cost to the child."

"He doesn't have to care what Dumbledore wants--" Harry began, but Remus cut him off.

"Oh, yes, he does. We all do, but him most of all. No matter which side you consider him to be working on, Dumbledore's orders are more important to him than to any other Order member. Yet Miranda's health was important enough to him for him to risk a very great deal indeed for a small child he had never laid eyes on before. Name one time on this trip when he has left the girl's side."

As hard as Harry tried, he couldn't recall a single instant when the potion master had so much as turned his back on the child while they were outside the auto. "OK, so he's a very skilled guard, but he still could have tol--".

Remus raised a hand with such a commanding expression that Harry broke off mid-word. It soon became obvious why Lupin had wanted silence. Miranda's voice reached them from the aisle behind Harry. "But I have to go to the BATHROOM! Please, Professor Snape! I have to go NOW!"

"That is where I am endeavoring to take you, Miranda Bentley. A lavatory is a bathroom. If you continue to cry loudly about it, I'll give you something to cry about while we're in there..." Severus' voice died away as the pair retreated down the aisle.

"He can't take her," Harry objected. "She's a girl. He can't go in with her!"

Lupin chuckled lightly. "You still have some things to learn, I see." His tone, however, was friendly. "In public places, it is not only safer, but one might say expected, for fathers to take their daughters into the men's lav with them. As polite as Miranda's dad taught her to be, I suspect he probably cared enough to do that with her before. Most likely, she will not think anything about Severus taking her to the men's room. It does prove out my point, however. He could have just sent her with Petunia, at far less embarrassment to himself. After all, he's never had a daughter either. And I didn't end up with you by accident. The adult Legilimens is protecting the child Legilimens at his own request. If, when you are both safe back at home, he does not explain how to protect Miranda, then I shall bring it up to Professor Dumbledore myself. Fair enough?"

Harry still wanted to argue, to find some thing to prove that Snape was the greasy-haired git Harry knew him to be, but try as he might, he couldn't come up with a single argument. "Fair enough, thank you, sir," he finally said with a sigh.

"Good!" beamed Lupin then. "What do you think about this shirt?" He held up a T-shirt with a screenprint of guitar-jamming pickles.

"I think it's great!" laughed Harry. "Let's get it!" Pushing the potions master from his mind, he gave himself over to the enjoyment of this strange treat of shopping for new clothes with his dad's closest remaining friend.

They had found more shirts and just decided to add summer pajamas (on a huge sale for under five pounds) when Miranda came skipping up, followed by Severus with Petunia trailing far behind. "Guess what, Harry-Daddy!"

"What, Mite? Are you doing all right?"

"Yes, sir, I'm fine. I found undies like Mommy always bought me, and Professor Snape said they were perfectly serviceable knickers, so I got seven pairs because they were on a sale, buy six and get one free, so now I can wear undies like Mommy wanted me to have every day!"

"That's great, Mite!" Harry enthused, even while privately wondering how in the world the man had talked Petunia Dursley into buying two extra pairs of knickers just to take advantage of a sale.

"She wanted to buy some other kind that my mommy never liked, Harry, but when Professor Snape said how Mommy's kind were so serviceable, she got them instead. Then the woman selling them said there was a sale. Professor Snape said then how it would be a shame not to take advantage of it, so we did!"

"Ah!" said Harry then as if that had explained everything. "We found a sale too, Mite, on something I needed, summer pajamas. As soon as we find some in my size, we'll be ready to pay."

Petunia snorted. "You have pajamas now."

"That fall down every time he takes a step," Snape growled. "How can he properly care for a child if he is always tugging up his trousers?"

Lupin handed Harry the proper size package as Petunia made a sour face. Not sorry to get away from the adults' tension, Harry moved off to pay. The bill came to 94.63 pounds.

"Give me the change," Petunia demanded as Harry and Lupin returned laden with packages. With a sigh, Harry set down his bundles and dug the 13.37 pounds from his pocket. Surprisingly, however, Petunia passed up the bills, taking only the coins. Digging a one-pound note out of her purse, she passed it to the astonished teen. "Don't let your uncle hear change rattling in your pocket, or I will not be responsible for the consequences. You hear me, Boy?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied swiftly as he returned the bills to his pocket. "Thank you so much!"

Snape grunted at that and Petunia did not seem to register the words. "Let's go! We've been gone too long now."

Once back at home, Harry sent Miranda into the house to take her nap. Then he glanced around. "What do you want done, ma'am?"

"Nothing, but the girl shouldn't go down for a nap without lunch. Go and bring her to the kitchen, and I'll fix us all something."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry was amazed and couldn't easily hide the fact. He had been planning to get both himself and Miranda ham sandwiches when he got upstairs. However, he didn't want the Dursleys to know about either the hiding place under the floorboards or the food and supplies it contained. He smiled at Petunia therefore in a most grateful manner. "We'd appreciate that very much, ma'am."

As he started for the house, Snape called after him. "What time does the girl go to bed at night, Potter?"

"I try for 8:30, Professor, but it was 8:45 before she was settled with her bath and all last night."

"I will meet you in the garden at 9:15 to discuss what we were speaking of at the shoe store, Potter. I wish to speak with you alone."

"Miranda panicks if I leave the house without her, Professor."

"She needs to learn to get over that. Tonight is as good a time as any to begin. She trusts both you and me, so it should be easier for her to let you go knowing you'll be meeting with me right downstairs."

Harry rather doubted that but saw no other way out but to agree.

The men said goodbye and left then. Opening the front door Harry called up the stairs, "Come back down, Mite. We're having lunch before you take your nap."

"Goody! Goody!" sang Miranda bounding down the stairs. "May I please have some milk, Harry-Daddy?"

"I don't know--" Harry began, but broke off at Petunia's curt nod. "Of course you can, Mite!"

"I love milk!" Miranda beamed up at them. "I always had it at home."

Seemingly unable to look at the child, Petunia called over her shoulder, "If you're out there, you might as well come in out of the heat. Neither Vernon nor Dudley are home. I'll fix us lemonade."

Harry didn't believe anyone would take the woman up on that offer, but a gray tabby stepped daintily onto the step and rubbed against Petunia's leg.

His aunt, however, recoiled in horror, kicking out at the cat. "Go away, you filthy beast! I didn't mean you!"

He bounded forward before Petunia's next kick could connect with the tabby's head. "She's not a filthy beast!" he cried, snatching up the cat and cuddling it to his chest. "She's an animagus, and you just invited her in for luncheon!" Moving into the foyer, he gently set the cat on the floor. "Welcome once again, Professor McGonagall."

Miranda danced around both him and the cat, crying, "Professor Kitty's head is hurt, Harry-Daddy. Make it better, please!"

"Pro-- professor?" Petunia stared wide-eyed at the cat on her carpeting. "That thing is an actual person?"

"Yes!" snapped Harry. "She's my professor and Head-of-House. She's also deputy headmistress."

Surprisingly, Miranda quit crying and calmed down. "Professor Kitty says her head isn't really hurt, Harry, but she wonders why Mrs. Dursley does not shut the door. She has to stay a cat until the door closes."

"Why?" asked Petunia, against her own will it seemed to Harry.

Miranda gazed at the cat thoughtfully. "Because it's the Law of Secrets-- or something like that. They're big words I don't really understand, but that's what they mean, Professor Kitty says."

"The Statute of Secrecy!" Petunia quickly shut the door then.

Harry could only gape at his aunt. How did she know all this stuff she had spent most of his life pretending did not exist?

"Thank you for both the invitation to come in for lemonade and for shutting the door, Mrs. Dursley." Professor McGonagall's voice sounded at his elbow, causing him to give an involuntary start. "And why does Miranda call you 'Mrs. Dursley,' if I might be so bold as to inquire? Didn't you and your husband agree to take her? It seems she would at least be invited to call you 'Auntie' or some such thing."

"Do-- do I have to?" queried Miranda, cowering behind the older woman. "'Auntie' is special."

Minerva reached behind herself and pulled the girl into a hug. "I didn't mean to frighten you, Lassie. I was just trying to suggest something besides Mrs. Dursley."

Miranda considered this carefully, cuddling into McGonagall's side as she did so. At length, she announced, "My mommy and daddy had a friend who had a really pretty dog named 'Lassie.'"

The deputy headmistress chuckled then. "Yes, people do name their dogs 'Lassie,' and there's nothing wrong with that. In Scotland, where I come from, however, the word 'Lassie' means a little girl, usually one for whom the person speaking has some affection."

"Does that mean you love me, Professor Kitty?" asked the child.

"It's McGonagall, Mite," Harry corrected. "Mac-gon-uh-gall. Remember? You've said her name before."

"But she calls me 'Lassie,' Harry-Daddy. That means she loves me. Why can't I call her 'Professor Kitty' because I love her too, please?"

"Uh," stammered Harry, "er, well, what if she--"

"Oh, I don't mind, Mr. Potter," McGonagall assured him, gracing Miranda with one of her rare smiles. "Many of my old students' children grow up calling me 'Auntie Minn.' You used to try to say that yourself. How James did laugh the first time you managed to put together 'Aw Minn!'

Harry thought hard but could not remember anything like that. "Would you like Miranda to call you 'Auntie Minn,' Professor?" he asked then, using the question to cover his confusion. "I-- I'm sure she could manage that."

"I daresay she could, Harry, but, as she has just stated, 'Auntie' is special to her. No, Professor Kitty suits me just fine!"

"Goody!" sang out Miranda. "I like 'Professor Kitty' better."

"I know you do, Lassie," replied Minerva, giving the girl another hug, at which Harry merely shrugged with a shake of his head.

The horsey-faced woman spoke from the door. "You may call me 'Aunt Petunia,' Child, the same as he does." She nodded curtly in Harry's direction.

"Yes, ma'am, Aunt Petunia," said Miranda, though she cowered a bit behind McGonagall as she spoke.

"Good. Now that's decided, let's get the two of you some lunch." Aunt Petunia pushed past them and led the way to the kitchen. "If Harry can get down four glasses, I'll pour the two of you some milk."

No time was wasted in the completion of this chore, and soon all were seated at the table. After a meal of bread, cheese, and fruit, Harry told Miranda to go back upstairs. Before leaving the kitchen, she hugged McGonagall's neck. "I am so glad you came, Professor Kitty! Thank you for eating with us!"

Harry was tempted to point out that the deputy head had eaten nothing but thought better of it immediately.

Minerva did not seem concerned by the incongruity of that statement, however. Pulling the child into another hug, she said, laughingly, "Well, I've enjoyed the time with you as well; enjoyed it immensely, in fact. But I think the proper person for the both of us to thank is your Aunt Petunia, who invited me in."

"Thank you, Aunt Petunia," said the girl immediately, arms still wrapped around the older woman's neck.

Petunia blushed mightily and looked a bit flustered. "Well, you are welcome, I am sure." (though she sounded not at all sure as she spoke). "Maybe your kitty can come to tea again, when your uncle and cousin are not at home."

Harry dropped his milk in astonishment at that. The sound of shattering glass was loud as a gunshot in the silent kitchen. Miranda gave a little shout and began to cry.

"There's no use crying over spilt milk, as they say, Child," Petunia continued, still talking to the girl. "Harry knows where both the rags and the broom are kept. He is more than capable of cleaning up his mess. Maybe you could show the professor out while he does that." She gave McGonagall a forced smile that resembled a grimace more than anything pleasant. "You will, of course, be the only animal allowed into our house, except for the blasted owl that stays in its cage."

McGonagall nodded curtly. "Thank you for that concession, Mrs. Dursley, and thank you very much for the excellent lemonade. It was most refreshing and," her arm came around Miranda as she continued, "I believe, extremely helpful."

"Well, let Dumbledore know that when you see him," said Petunia, rising. "I hope to never have that pleasant experience again."

With a nod of her own, the deputy headmistress replied in turn, "I shall so inform the headmaster upon my return to school tonight." She led Miranda into the foyer out of Petunia's and Harry's sight.

The girl's voice carried back clearly enough, however. "Seeing Professor Dumbledore is a pleasant experience, Professor Kitty. Even Aunt Petunia said so. But why does she hope never to have the pleasant experience again, please?"

"Umm, some things are meant to be savored for a long time between repetitions, Miranda. Perhaps Aunt Petunia believes her meeting with Professor Dumbledore was one of those kind of experiences."

"Oh, I hope I NEVER have an experience like that. I want to see Professor Dumbledore often, Professor Kitty!"

These words were greeted by a delighted chuckle. "I know for a fact that Professor Dumbledore wants to see you often as well, Miranda. I don't think you need worry about that. Now I hear you are making excellent progress with your reading."

"Yes, ma'am! The last time Harry counted, I could read fifteen words on my own, and we have another lesson before I take my nap. We have three lessons every day. Harry's a really good teacher."

"I'm sure he is. It doesn't hurt either that you found the confidence to be a good student. Keep on learning and you will go a lot farther than you think now."

"I will, Professor Kitty! I'll bet I can learn another fifteen words today."

"Learn all you can every time and there'll be no need to count." McGonagall's voice sounded as if she were holding back another chuckle with difficulty. "That is what all my best students do. Some of the most helpful advice I've ever heard given was to ask oneself each day 'Is there one more thing I could do today?' If you think of something, do it if you possibly can."

"All right! I'll start doing that today. Thank you, Professor Kitty! I-- I want to learn to be one of your best students as much as I want to learn to read."

Having cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, Harry appeared behind the pair. "I like that you want that, Mite. It's one of the things I want for you as well."

With a final hug, McGonagall requested, "Open the front door, please, Lassie." Then she resumed her tabby form.

After Miranda's lesson, she willingly lay down and soon fell asleep. Harry was just getting parchment to write Hagrid everything that had been happening when a quiet rap sounded on his closed door. Opening it cautiously, he found his aunt standing there, looking uncomfortable. "I came to tell you that you will be required to fix breakfast Monday through Friday before Vernon goes to work. If there are clean clothes folded on top of the dryer, the girl will be expected to carry the piles upstairs and put them neatly in the appropriate rooms. Every Wednesday you both will spend the day helping with the weekly cleaning and working in the yard. Other than those things, your time is yours to do with as you wish, as long as you don't get into any trouble."

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry.

With a curt nod and no explanation whatsoever, the woman turned and went back downstairs.

Finding he had nothing to do at the house, Harry decided to take Miranda to the play park when she awakened. Grabbing a water bottle for each of them, he stuffed them into an old knapsack Dudley had discarded the summer before as being 'not new enough' for him. Thinking hard about what he had seen mothers bring to the park in the past, he added a roll of paper towels from the linen closet and Miranda's jacket from Mrs. Weasley.

When she awoke, Miranda heartily approved the plan. Harry, however, first sent her downstairs to see if there was any clean clothes folded on top of the dryer. She soon returned with their new clothes folded over her arm. Taking them from her, Harry quickly put them away. "Come on then, Mite. We're off!"

"Goody! Goody!" sang out Miranda. "We had parks in Hawaii too, Harry. I love to go to the park. Do they have a seesaw?"

"I don't know for sure," replied Harry, uncertain what the child meant. "We'll just have to wait and see when we get there."

"OK, Harry," the girl agreed with a grin.

'At least she is easy to please,' Harry thought to himself as they started down the stairs. 'Whatever would I do if she were a second Dudley?' He shivered at the thought.

Halfway to the play park, they were accosted by Mrs. Figg. "Oh, coming to see me, were you, Harry? And is this Mirandy? Yes, you both have mail waiting. From the Ministry of Magic, one of your letters is. I can certainly understand why you're keen to read that one. Well, my cats won't starve without food for two hours more. Come along with you then."

"Ma'am?" Harry questioned blankly.

"Well, I'm not up on such things, being an old Squib, but Albus did mention something about OWL results-"

"My OWL results are at your house?" Harry questioned excitedly. "But why would they be there?"

"Your aunt and uncle didn't tell you?" Mrs. Figg queried, peering at him suspiciously. "Come along to my house and stay for tea. I'll explain everything, then you can tell me if Petunia and Vernon are living up to their side of the bargain." Turning, she began to lead the pair toward her home.

"I'm sorry, Mite," Harry whispered, leaning close to Miranda's ear. "I really think I need to check this out before we go to the park however."

"All right, Harry," the girl agreed. "But is she a stranger, please? Mommy, Daddy, Auntie Nell, Ee-Ee, and all the house elves all told me not to go with strangers."

"Uh, that is right, Mite. I don't want you to go with strangers either. When we get to her house, I'll introduce you to Mrs. Figg. She's not a stranger to me. She's my old baby-sitter."

"Oh, goody! Baby-sitters are not strangers, Harry."

The pair caught up with the older woman at her garden gate.

"Mrs. Figg, uh... This is my daughter, Miranda Elaine Bentley. She's seven years old..." Harry began awkwardly as soon as the front door had closed behind them.

"How do you do, Mirandy? My name is Mrs. Figg. I've known your new daddy since he was younger than you are now."

"I know," replied the girl calmly. "He told me that you were his babysitter. It's nice to meet you, ma'am. Are you my babysitter too, please?"

"If you ever need a babysitter, you may call on me, Mirandy," laughed the older woman. "It's very nice to meet you too. Come and sit down, both of you. I'll fetch the posts and put the kettle on to boil."

Soon Miranda received three parchments and Harry received four. "Who are my letters from, Harry-Daddy, please? I never gotted even one letter for myself before!"

Harry examined the letters. "This is from Ginny, this one from Professor McGonagall, and this from Professor Snape," he replied in the most patient voice he could muster. He had recognized Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid's writing on his letters and the official Ministry seal on the fourth seemed to be calling to him like a siren's song. "Which do you want to read first then?"

Mrs. Figg returned from the kitchen in time to hear that last part. "Why don't you let me help you read your letters first, Mirandy? That way you can impress your daddy by needing less help from him later."

"Harry?" queried the child excitedly then. "Please? I'd really love to be able to impress you with my reading."

Seeing nothing dangerous in this plan, since he had started trusting Mrs. Figg more ever since the previous summer when he'd realized she'd been protecting him for Albus Dumbledore, Harry nodded quickly. "All right then, Mite. Mrs. Figg is not a stranger, and I'd love for you to impress me." He grinned as he added silently to himself, 'To say nothing of the fact that I can check out my own mail in peace.'

As soon as the two had retired to Mrs. Figg's comfortable old recliner in the corner, Harry tore open the ministry envelope and read:

OWL Results for Harry James Potter. June 1995

Astronomy: Practical: A. Theoretical: E.

Care of Magical Creatures: Practical: O. Theoretical: E.

Charms: Practical: E. Theoretical: E.

Defense Against the Dark Arts: Practical: O. Theoretical: O.

Divination: Practical: P. Theoretical: P.

Herbology: Practical: E. Theoretical: A.

History of Magic: A.

Potions: Practical: O. Theoretical: O.

Transfiguration: Practical: E. Theoretical: E.

Total OWLs: 8

"Yahoo!" he cheered, startling even himself. Looking up in embarrassment, he met the questioning expressions of the room's other two occupants. "Uh... I, er, passed eight of my OWLs and now I can take the classes I want this year," he explained lamely. "Sorry for shouting and all, ma'am."

"Nonsense!" sniffed Arabella Figg. "You have every right to be proud and thrilled, Harry. Eight OWLs sounds wonderfully many to me. Getting the NEWT-level classes you want and need is nothing to turn your nose up at either. Now come right over here, and let us give you a hug."

"Er, well, yes, ma'am." Very red in the face, Harry approached the pair and permitted himself to be embraced and kissed.

"Congratulations!" said Mrs. Figg. "This calls for a party. Can you both come back Friday night at 7:00? I will bake a cake. What kind do you prefer?"

"Goody! Goody! I love chocolate with white icing." Miranda's eyes danced merrily. "Don't you like that too, Harry-Daddy?"

Not having many memories of cakes to compare anything against put Harry at the disadvantage. "If Mrs. Figg can manage it, that sounds very good, Mite," he mumbled at last.

"Oh, that is easily arranged," Mrs. Figg assured him.

So it was decided that they would have chocolate cake with white icing on Friday at 7:00 to celebrate Harry's good OWL scores. "Do you want to hear my letter from Professor Snape, Harry?" Miranda asked then. Receiving a affirmative reply, she began to read, with little help from Mrs. Figg.

"Dear Miranda,

It is indeed wonderful thhat you can already read 15 words by yourself. Keep up the hard work because we know you are capable of much more than that.

You are welcome, both about the book and the blankets. Use them all well.

Sincerely,

Professor Snape"

"That is super reading, Mite!" Harry praised her. "Now I'd best see what my other letters say."

"Me too, Harry." Miranda picked up her next parchment as she spoke.

Gratefully, Harry returned to his place and picked up Ron's letter.

Hey, Harry, (it read)

Mum and Dad said you have a daughter now and that she's already seven years old. I'm sure there's a big story behind it all; can't wait to hear about it! The really weird thing is that Snape seems to know about her too. He says she is sick or something. The greasy git wasn't even a trifle mean about it. I hope that doesn't mean that she's like dying soon or something, Mate.

Mum is all over Dumbledore to move you both here. I know he's always good at holding up against her, but I've never seen her quite this fierce! Maybe we'll be seeing you soon. I hope so anyway. There's a million things we could do together before school starts.

Ron

"I hope so myself," Harry muttered, reaching for Hermione's note.

Dear Harry, (this one said)

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley told us about you having a daughter now. However did you get a seven-year-old for a daughter when you're not even sixteen yourself yet? They said that she was sick and Professor Snape knows how to make the potions that she needs. He is going to be brewing them here, and we all have a special job to do to help him. Ginny calls Fawkes and asks him for three phoenix tears; Ron keeps everyone away from the lab when Professor Snape is brewing; and I prepare and lay out Professor Snape's ingredients for him. They have to be chopped in just the right lengths, and it is so interesting the things he uses! I found a book on healing potions here, and he seems to be combining the best parts of several potions to make an entirely new potion. Of course phoenix-tear potions are the most potent of all healing potions anyway. I'm sure your daughter is receiving the best care it is possible for her to get.

Was she the one you needed the hair-calming potion for, by the way? Professor Snape hasn't made any of that here (at least I haven't prepared the ingredients for him, I mean.) Do you need more yet? I can always whip you up some more. It's no trouble at all to make.

Have you gotten your OWL results yet? I received an E on my Defense practical. I bet you got two O's in that though. I'm ever so pleased with my grades anyway. What did you get in Potions? I got two O's, so I'll be taking the NEWT-level classes. I hope you got O's as well. Write and let me know, if you can.

Love from Hermione

Harry couldn't suppress a grin, thinking how much like Hermione's speech her letter had sounded. He'd actually found himself reading with bated breath, imagining Hermione rattling out all that about potions without stopping to breathe. As for her OWL grades, of course she had passed everything. He knew that without even asking. He felt his body relaxing in a way it hadn't since his return to Privet Drive. Yes, he'd needed this break with letters to read from his friends, even though it had meant postponing the play park outing. He silently vowed to make that up to Miranda soon.

As if his thoughts had called to her, the girl's voice came from across the room. "Ready to hear my letter from Ginny, Harry-Daddy?"

"You bet I am, Mite!"

"Dear Miranda," she began, "I was very sorry to hear that you got hurt this morning. I hope you are better. I look forward to meeting you and hope it will be soon. We are preparing a surprise for you when we see you. I think you'll like it a lot! Give my best to Harry and Mr. Bear please.

"Love, Ginny"

"How wonderful, Mite!" Harry smiled. "I hope you get to meet all the Weasleys and my friend Hermione soon too."

"So do I, Harry-Daddy!"

"And that's the water ready for teabags," remarked Mrs Figg, as the whistle of the kettle was heard from the kitchen. "How about taking a break from mail and let me explain why your letters are coming to my house."

With a visible start, Harry realized that, in the excitement over OWLs and his friends' letters, he'd forgotten that an explanation was still to be forthcoming. "Yes, please, ma'am."

"But I still haven't read Professor Kitty's letter, Harry-Daddy. She will be very hurt if I don't read it soon."

"You can read it later, Mite. I haven't read Professor Hagrid's either. We'll both have one letter to read after tea."

"All right, Harry," agreed Miranda, albeit with a pout, "but when are we going to the park please?"

"Oh, uhm," Harry stammered, before getting an idea. "Well, we can go to the park almost any day, Mite. But we won't often get letters from Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, Ginny, Professor Hagrid, Ron, Hermione, and the Ministry of Magic. In fact, that has never happened to me before. If we don't want to hurt their feelings, we need to see what is happening so we can plan how to write them back. That's what people do when they get letters."

Miranda thought that over very carefully. "Mommy, Daddy, and Auntie Nell always used to answer their mail," she said at last. With a smile, she added, "Now I get to do it too. You're right, Harry-Daddy. That's better than going to the park."

"The tea is ready, and I found us some biscuits," called out Mrs. Figg from the kitchen before Harry could answer. "Come along, both of you."

Over shortbread biscuits and tea, Harry learned that it had been decided that, in exchange for providing Harry and Miranda with food, proper clothes, and time to themselves, all owl posts to Number Four Privet Drive would be diverted to Mrs. Figg's house. "I can check up on things that way as well. Albus wants daily reports on how the Muggles are treating you. So if you would be good enough to pop in each day and let me know how things are progressing, we would all appreciate it greatly."

"All right, ma'am. We have chores all day on Wednesdays, but we are free most other times." Harry nodded thoughtfully. 'It doesn't sound like we are going to be going to the Weasley's anytime soon,' he grumbled to himself. 'But then why should this year be any different?'

"I could write to Auntie Nell too, Harry-Daddy," Miranda said suddenly. "She'd be very surprised, I bet. She doesn't know that I'm reading and writing letters now!"

"Where does your Auntie Nell live, dear?" Mrs. Figg asked curiously.

"In Hawaii," replied Miranda. "I lived there too all my life, until Mommy and Daddy went to become angels and the baby went away." Her chin was quivering violently and tears started down her cheeks. "I want them to come back to me! Professor Dumbledore said no one could help it, but he might be wrong. Can you make them not be angels anymore and come here to live with me, please?"

"Oh, my poor lamb!" exclaimed Arribella Figg, pushing back her chair and extending her arms toward the girl. "I'm sorry to say I can't, Lovey, but we can and shall contact Professor Dumbledore about you writing your Auntie Nell. Let us call him right now!" First, however, she cuddled Miranda on her lap until only a sniffle remained of the torrent of tears. Then rising, she took Floo powder from the mantle and threw it into the fireplace. "Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office!" she called.

Soon Dumbledore's head appeared. "Arabella, Harry, and Miranda!" he greeted with a twinkle. "This is a pleasant surprise indeed!"

"Mirandy would like very much to write to her Auntie Nell in Hawaii, Albus," stated the woman without so much as a 'Hello' in greeting. "Someone could take the letter to London to be sent, I presume."

Dumbledore blinked. "Who is Auntie Nell?" he asked blankly. "Every report I've gotten says that the girl has no living relatives, and-"

A piercing shriek from Miranda cut through whatever else he had to say. "No! No! No! I won't let Auntie Nell become an angel. I know she loves Mommy and Daddy and told me that she missed them too, but I want her here with me! I do!"

"Shush, Mite," said Harry, going to kneel beside the trembling form. "Professor Dumbledore is not saying that Auntie Nell is an angel. He just meant that he'd never heard of her before. You need to tell him who she is is all."

"She's Auntie Nell," sniffled the girl, drying her eyes with the back of her hand and pressing against Harry so hard that he was in danger of being bowled over into the fireplace. "She went to school with Mommy and Daddy a long time ago. The other kidses called her 'Mrs. Benson' and the other peoples called her 'Nella,' but we all called her 'Auntie Nell' at my house. She liked that name best; she told me so herself. She did, Harry-Daddy. She'd want to know I can read and write now. She would!"

"Well, I'm sure," smiled Albus Dumbledore. "You go ahead and write your letter. We'll find a way to get it to Mrs. Nella Benson for you. How would that be, Miranda?"

With a very wet grin, the girl beamed at him through her tears. "That would be wonderful, thank you, Professor Dumbledore. I could tell her how I'm reading and writing and getting letters. She'll like that. Let's see... What else could I tell her?" She paused to muse about the matter.

"Tell her how you are getting your potions now," the headmaster urged. "I daresay she'll like that news too."

"Yes," replied the girl. "And I'll tell her how Severus Snape doesn't like to be called that. She can start calling him 'Professor Snape' just as Harry and I do. He'll like that a lot better, I bet!"

"All right," Albus agreed with a twinkle.

"And I could tell her how I don't have to go back to that horrid orphanage because Harry is keeping me now."

"You may tell her from me that you will not be going back there while any of us are able to help it, of course." Dumbledore sounded very thoughtful indeed. "Tell her about the rest of us as well."

"All right! About you and Professor Lupin, Madam Pomfrey, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. Mrs. Figg too. And Professor Kitty, of course!" She fairly crowed the last.

Dumbledore blinked again. "Who is Professor Kitty? I don't remember ever meeting him." His tone was light enough, but he seemed trying to X-ray the child with his eyes through the flames.

Miranda laughed gayly. "Professor McGonagall isn't a man, Professor Dumbledore! You know that already! How funny you are, sir!"

"Miranda Elaine Bentley!" Harry spoke in a reproving tone. "How was he supposed to know you insisted on renaming Professor McGonagall 'Professor Kitty?' Do not laugh at him that way. Do you want to hurt his feelings?"

The chin quivered again. "I-- I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore. I didn't mean to hurt you, sir. I-- I thought we were playing a game, or something."

"I know that, Miranda," the elderly wizard's tone was gentle. "I, in my turn, never meant to give your daddy the impression that I thought you meant anything bad by your words. So when you say 'Professor Kitty,' you are talking about Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes, sir," sniffled the girl. "She calls me 'Lassie' because she loves me, and I call her 'Professor Kitty' for the same reason. That name suits her fine, sir. She told Harry-Daddy so herself!"

"I daresay she did," said Albus thoughtfully. "She calls you 'Lassie,' you say?"

"Yes, sir. She comes from a country where people don't just name their dogs that. She told me it means a little girl for whom the speaker has affection. That means she loves me. Harry suggested that I could call her 'Auntie Minn' because I love her too. But I had gotten scared when she had said I could call Aunt Petunia 'Auntie' instead of 'Mrs. Dursley.' I told her then 'Auntie' was special. It's Auntie Nell's name, after all. She told me then that she didn't mean to scare me. She just wanted to suggest something beside Mrs. Dursley.' She called me 'Lassie' then. I told her about Mommy's and Daddy's friend's dog named 'Lassie'. Then she laughed (but not in a mean way). She told me what 'Lassie' means in her country. So I called her 'Professor Kitty' because I love her too. She told Harry that was OK because 'Auntie' was special to me. But so is 'Professor Kitty.' And it's just her name like Auntie Nell's is hers."

"Of course it is," Dumbledore assured her then. "What happened next?"

"Aunt Petunia said I could call her 'Aunt Petunia' just like Harry does. Then she poured Harry and me milk and made the lemonade. We got bread, cheese, and strawberries too. I love strawberries and milk! Then Harry dropped his glass on the floor, but Aunt Petunia told me not to cry because he knew how to clean it up. She told me I could show Professor Kitty out while Harry cleaned up the milk. She told me my kitty could come to tea again when Uncle Vernon and Dudley were not at home. She told Professor Kitty she would be the only animal permitted in her house besides the blasted owl who stays in its cage. Hedwig likes to fly though, Professor Dumbledore. Couldn't Harry and I go and visit Mr. and Mrs. Weasley so Hedwig could fly? Please?"

"Yes, you can, Miranda. Soon you will both be moved to stay with the Weasleys. I haven't forgotten avout that. But there are many compelling reasons why I cannot just let you move there as soon as you'd wish it. Harry knows what they are. I don't believe it would be good for you to know them now, however. You and Hedwig will just have to trust me as Harry does."

The child glanced at Harry in high confusion. Not sure how he should respond to the expression in her eyes, he settled for the role of father-guardian. "Professor Dumbledore is waiting for an answer, Mite. It would be polite to tell him 'yes, sir' or something."

"I'd settle willingly for something more truthful, Harry. Truth can be a beautiful, dangerous thing. Sometimes, however, it is the necessary thing, no matter be it beautiful or dangerous."

"Sir?" asked Harry, glancing toward the fire in high confusion of his own.

The headmaster, though, directed his next comments to the girl. "There is such a thing as a so-called 'social lie,' Miranda, that people tell so as not to hurt another's feelings. If you do not agree with what I told you about trusting me, but you said you did because you didn't want me to feel bad or because Harry told you to say 'yes,' that would be telling not a bad, dishonest thing, but not the truth either. I wish to have the brutal truth now. Do not worry about respect or hurting me. Do you think you and Hedwig can trust me when I say you must still stay on Privet Drive?"

Miranda thought for a long time. Finally, she said, "I think I can trust you, Professor, even though I don't like staying. I think Hedwig will trust you as well when I explain it to her. Mr. Bear will understand too. But I really think you should tell Harry when we can move. He doesn't have to tell me or Hedwig, or even Mr. Bear, but it's hardest on him not knowing."

Dumbledore blinked. "That sounds like a very accurate, and very adult, assessment, Miranda. May I ask who told you that, please?"

The child stared back at him steadily. "No one tells me stuff like that, sir. But that doesn't mean it isn't true."

"But you know this from somebody," persisted the man. "Who was feeling that, please?"

Miranda pressed her lips together in a pout but made no further reply.

"Was it Harry?" the headmaster persisted.

Miranda turned away. "May we go to the park now, please, Harry-Daddy?"

Harry opened his mouth to say-- well, something-- but no sound would come out. He shook his head violently to clear it and opened his mouth to try speech again, but the headmaster cut him off.

"You neither angered nor hurt me, Miranda. I know you know this already, but I need to say this for Harry, so I do not hurt his feelings. I am going to talk to him as if you had told me 'yes' just now. Would you permit Mrs. Figg to take you into the other room, please?"

"Come on, Mirandy. You can help me pick out a recipe for Harry's OWL-party cake."

"Oh, goody! Let's pick out a good one." Miranda willingly took the woman's hand and skipped from the room at her side.

"I-- I'm sorry, Professor," Harry stammered. "I don't know where she gets these things."

Albus nodded. "I know, Harry. Professor Snape already informed me of her ability in that area. I confess it is more pronounced than I noticed the one time I met with her. I suspect, and Severus concurs, that this is probably a normal level for her to be functioning on. By that I mean her abilities were hampered that first night by being almost a week without her potions. I do not believe we are in for any more surprises like this one. For the child's own mental health, however, I believe we need to address this soon. I heard of her reaction to Petunia's anger in the auto. While it seems Professor Snape was able to impress on your aunt some sense of accepting the girl, even if it is a forced feeling, we cannot depend on that happening with either your uncle or cousin. We might be better taking her out of that environment. It is a very bad time to move you, however. What we might be looking at is if it is better to leave Miranda and help her combat the effects of her power or move her immediately to headquarters alone. I know seperating her from you would cause terrible trauma, so I would be more likely to employ the first method at this time. The problem is: Would it be as traumatic for her to stay with her abilities as it would be to separate you?"

"Why do you have to separate us to move her, sir? I've been here three weeks now. There are years where I didn't stay this long. Moving both of us now could be another option." Harry tried to keep his voice composed and respectful, but it was a difficult battle. Were the adults just going to snatch Miranda away unannounced one day? As little as he knew about being a father, or of taking care of a child at all, he realized that, having met Miranda, life at Privet Drive would be unbearable if she left. Didn't the adults care about that?

Albus appeared not to have heard him though. "Could she have been Legilimening Severus? Does the girl truly possess the ability to break his Occlumency when he's trying his hardest not to be read? Her comment certainly was a strange one for a seven-year-old child. She got it from someone. If it wasn't you, it was an adult with the power to read you."

The idea of Snape, the greasy bat of the dungeons, reading him totally unnerved Harry. "She probably picked up on my wishing I could see Ron, sir. I was thinking that only a little bit ago."

"No," Dumbledore was frowning now. "It was more than that-- much more. I wish I could recall the exact words Severus used after our meeting with your aunt and uncle this morning. If she used his words, it would prove the extent of her powers. Or, she could be echoing what Minerva heard him say. I wish they had not seen each other before I spoke with Miranda, but then I did not even know we'd be having this conversation, and it appears Professor McGonagall was a help with the relationship with your aunt. Since Petunia is the one you both will be around the most, that alone could prove beneficial enough for Miranda to remain relatively unharmed."

Losing his temper, Harry employed a curse word that would have shocked Hermione. Albus seemed to sit up and really take notice of the boy for the first time. "Why is it always about you, Professor?-- what YOU think! what YOU believe! what YOU want! My daughter has lost almost everything she has ever known. Yet, there you are, calmly talking of taking her from me as well-- no! That did not come out right! I meant taking me from her. Why can't this year be different? Why can't we both go someplace where we are welcomed, so she can heal in peace?"

"Those are fair questions, Harry, and you are not the first to raise them.--"

"Why don't you listen then? Are you truly so sure of yourself as all that or do you just not care?"

That brought another blink from the older wizard. "I care very much, Harry, for both you and Miranda. That is why we are having this conversation. I assure you, I want only what is best for the both of you. I apparently need not worry about the girl's abilities. I believe I have just found the source of her confusion. We will move the both of you to the Burrow within the next two weeks. Any tighter time frame I cannot give you now, as the residence must first be fortified with the strongest of wards. Have you been reading the Prophet, Harry?"

"No, Uncle Vernon attacked the first delivery owl and no other has shown up. Why do you ask, sir?"

"Ah! Because Voldermort has been anything but silent since the Ministry learned their lesson about him. People have been disappearing under very mysterious circumstances. Some parts of the country have been covered with dementor fogs. There is even unrest within the Ministry itself. Folks are calling for Fudge's resignation."

"And Umbridge's, sir?"

"Dolores is very busy calling Fudge a dottering fool and insisting he had forced her to proclaim Voldemort gone and you a liar. No, Harry, she will not be joining Fudge in his demotion."

"But all the students, sir? Everyone who was at Hogwarts last year knows the truth!"

"Yes, and when you become old enough to run the government, I daresay her career might meet an unexpected end, if enough of you are not turned into toadies by the taste of political power and the quest to be the new rising stars in the Ministry's service." The older wizard sighed then. "And, if you will recall, there were students willing to do her bidding, even at your young ages, either out of fear of their parents' reprisals or want of the glory she offered."

Harry thought immediately of Draco Malfoy and that jerk of a girl who'd snitched on the D.A. because her mother worked in the Ministry offices and was one of Umbridge's adult toadies. That girl was a Ravenclaw even! "I see what you mean," he admitted ruefully. "It wasn't just the Slytherins who thought she was fantastic."

"No, it wasn't," sighed Dumbledore again, "though they were the most obvious, least-surprising supporters. We have had control of Hogwarts reinstated to us, however. No Ministry officials will be on staff this year. The downside to that is that I must yet again seek out a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor before September first. But the choice will be the best I can manage to make and will not be forced upon me."

"That is good then, Professor."

"Yes, a great improvement over last year, Harry. What I wish to impress on you, however, is not my staffing difficulties, but rather your safety. Your uncle's house is well-warded. Even as willing as the Weasleys are to live with the restrictions of multiple-warding, approximating the protection you have there would be difficult. Duplicating it would, of course, not be possible. We will move you with your friends before school begins again, but I cannot promise it will be this week. I can only promise that it will be as soon as we can arrange it."

"Yes, sir, Professor," Harry agreed then. He was not pleased with the statement, but it had shown more concession than he was expecting from the man. He also had to admit (if only to himself) that Dumbledore had a valid point about the safety of one place over the other. "Professor Snape is going to meet with me tonight about what Miranda needs to do," he informed Dumbledore then.

"That is good, Harry." The headmaster shook his head. "Whatever you may think personally, please rest assured that Severus will do for Miranda exactly as he would have for his own child. None of us want to hurt her."

"Yes, Professor. Thank you, sir."

"Certainly, Harry, now I hear a knocking. As I have an appointment scheduled, I rather suspect that the sound is coming from my door. Therefore, I'll let you go for now. Please ask Arabella to call again if you have need of anything." At the teen's nod, he left the flames. Mrs. Figg's fireplace immediately became as dark and lonely-looking as ever a fireplace did on a hot summer's day.

Going in search of the women, Harry found them in the small guest bedroom off the living room. Miranda beamed at him from the floor. "Look at all the kitties Mrs. Figg has, Harry! Aren't they just the sweetest things?"

"Uhm, I-- I've seen them before, Mite. They're all right."

"They certainly are! I want to write both Professor Kitty and Auntie Nell about them. May I do that, please?"

"Er, OK, you can write them tonight and we can mail the letters off tomorrow."

"Goody! Goody gumdrops! Thank you, Harry-Daddy."

"Now let's see if we can help Mrs. Figg clean up the tea things."

"That's already done, Harry. Mirandy was a great little helper with that. Now you can both finish your mail. Do you want me to help you, Mirandy?"

"Yes, please, ma'am!" So the two headed back to Mrs. Figg's chair with Harry trailing behind them.

Seating himself back on the sofa, he picked up Hagrid's note and began to read:

'Dear Harry,

'I heard what those Muggles did to you, giving you a sick daughter and all. If I'd of been there, I'd of given them what-for about that! Are you OK, though? Professor Dumbledore says the girl is very good and that Professor Snape knows how to make the potions she needs. I've heard tell as well that Professor Snape has had to make several emergency trips there to help the girl.

'Know you're safe and all, of course, but I hope that you're both having some fun as well. It is summer after all!

'Write back if you possibly can.

'Hagrid'

Harry permitted himself a grin, strangely warmed by Hagrid's caring. His thoughts were once again interrupted by Miranda's query. "Do you want to hear my letter, Harry-Daddy?"

"Of course I do, Mite!"

"Dear Miranda," (the girl read then.)

"Professor Snape tells me that you now can read fifteen words by yourself. That is wonderful! Keep studying hard and soon you will be able to read many whole books by yourself.

"When you are ready for them, you may use my old schoolbooks to study from. I am not worried about this because I know both that you are capable of learning all the material and that you will take care of the books and return them in good condition.

"Love,

"Professor McGonagall"

"Wow!" Harry was genuinely surprised. "That certainly was nice of Professor McGonagall."

"Yes, it was," agreed Miranda willingly. "That is because she loves me so much, Harry."

"I know she does, Mite."

Back at Privet Drive that evening, after an uneventful, if extremely unpleasant supper, Harry took Miranda upstairs to help her write her letters. She did a very thorough job of telling her Auntie Nell everything she and Dumbledore had discussed as well as about the kittens. Harry, who had expected to have to make many suggestions or reminders, was pleasantly surprised and impressed with her memory, persistance, and intelligence in general. Praising her brought on a smile that remained throughout her bath and dressing in her pajamas. Indeed it only disappeared when Harry explained he was going to the garden to wait for Professor Snape who would be arriving in five minutes.

"Take me with you, Harry-Daddy, please! I'll stay out of the way and be quiet as a mouse. I promise-- double-promise even!"

"I'm really sorry, Mite. Professor Snape said he wants to talk to me alone, and so--"

"I could stay with the lady, Harry-Daddy. Just so I'm not without you, I don't care if she doesn't trust little girls."

"What lady, Mite? You mean Aunt Petunia?"

"No, sir, I mean the invisible lady in the garden."

In high confusion, Harry finally ended up leading Miranda out to the garden to tell Snape about the woman. Severus didn't seem at all disconcerrted by the fact that Miranda, inside the house, could tell that there was a woman standing under an invisibility cloak in the garden. He did, however, seem very concerned by the fact that Miranda thought the woman did not trust little girls much.

"Mrs. Jones has daughters of her own. Why wouldn't she trust little girls?"

"She trusts her own little girls. They don't live with Harry. But I'm not going to hurt him, Professor. I double-triple promise that!"

Severus suggested that Miranda go across the garden and tell that to her teddy bear where Mrs. Jones could hear her. "Do not raise your voice and do not look at her, Miranda. You are merely talking to your stuffed friend. She will hear you, however."

"OK, Professor Snape," agreed the girl without much enthusiasm. "I did promise Harry that I would stay with the lady out of the way."

"That is very well," replied the man. "You need to understand, however, that Professor Dumbledore and I trust Mrs. Jones very much. I wish her to hear how you are feeling, like you know how she feels. If things do not change tonight, Professor Dumbledore and I will take drastic measures to assure nothing develops from them. As I have stated, we trust Mrs. Jones, however, so we would like to give her an opportunity to understand. Now, obey me or answer for it."

"Yes, sir, Professor Snape." She retreated across the summer grass immediately.

Snape looked at the boy now glaring at him with open hostility. "My daughter did nothing to you, SIR! What gives you the right to threaten her in any way?"

"I am her healer and the only adult Legilimens in this garden, Potter? What gives YOU the right to talk to me in that tone?"

"She's my daughter!"

"And you asked my advice on how to help her combat the side effects of her powers. One way is confronting ignorance with respectful teaching on what it is like to be a natural-born Legilimens. If we can teach Miranda to do that, not only will it empower her and help her gain confidence, it will help the Order members who are not as familiar with Legilimency to understand her as a child, and not as a threat to the 'Chosen One of the Wizarding World'.

"What--?"

"Yes, I see you are unfamiliar with your new title, Potter. You must be so proud!"

"But what am I chosen for? Who chose me?"

Severus merely raised his brows at the boy, and at last understanding dawned.

"You-- you don't mean chosen to kill Voldemort? Who thinks that?"

"You have become the new Ministry poster-child, Potter. Professor Dumbledore is going to get your subscription to the Daily Prophet reinstated. In the meantime, you need to realize that people who desire your safety do not all look kindly on a natural-born Legilimens being dumped on your doorstep when the Dark Lord is so skilled at Legilimency."

Harry's face came alive with understanding. "'She trusts her own little girls. They do not live with Harry.' But I don't think for one second that Miranda came here to hurt me. She's my cousin; well, she's Dudley's cousin, and he's my cousin. Isn't that close enough?"

Severus sighed. "Let's not argue family ties right now, Potter. Suffice it to say, the girl is, at some point, to become your legal child, and you wish to know how to help her."

"I do. Professor Dumbledore says you can teach me how as if she were your own child."

Snape stared at the teen with a very strange expression for one micro-second before sneering. Later, Harry, thinking it over, wasn't sure he hadn't imagined the expression.

"Well, for one thing, Potter, if she were my daughter, she'd be upstairs in her bed right now, with or without a smarting arse to show for it."

Harry rubbed at his face in tired frustration. "What would you have told her about the woman, sir?" 'If you condescended to tell her anything, that is,' he added silently.

Severus must have Legilimened something of the last thought or guessed at it from his past relationship with the boy. His sneer held firm. "While it is true I would not have been surprised by her knowledge, neither should you have been, knowing what Legilimency does as you do, Potter. Do try to use your brains this summer! Hopefully we can bring something good from the situation, but be forewarned. Bedtime not held sancrocinct will soon become no bedtime at all. Next will follow nap-time, lesson-time, and meal-time until the child's whims rule the roost, whatever your parental needs to the contrary."

"Maybe that is true with most children, Professor, but Miranda really understands--"

"How to manipulate you to get her own way? Yes, indeed! She knows that better than any other child alive. If Child Legilimens are not held to as much accountability as they can manage, they can become the cutest terrors you could wish away."

Harry thought of Dudley. "What would you do if something like this happens again, sir?"

"Give her the choice to come down before bedtime and tell her teddy bear about things as she is doing now or deal with it in another way we shall discuss presently. She should not, however, be allowed to discuss instead of going to bed at the appointed time. If it is bed-time, nap-time, lesson or meal-time, there is no choice. Coming out to talk to Teddy is not an option."

"What would you do if it is bedtime and she notices this?"

"Put her to bed and tell her to Occlumen."

"Does Miranda know how to Occlumen?"

"Not yet."

"When will she know, sir?" Harry privately wondered why the man had called him out to the garden in secret to tell him something that seemed not to help at all.

"She will know when we teach her and not before, Potter."

Harry suddenly comprehended what Albus had meant when he had said in the Floo that afternoon, 'Whatever you may think personally. . .'

"You-- you wish to teach her Occlumency as you did with me, sir?" He fought to control the rising panic in his chest and keep his voice from carrying across the small stretch of lawn between himself and the child currently burying her face in Mr. Bear's fur. "Isn't she suffering enough to satisfy everyone now? She's only seven, after all!"

"And according to the historical records available to us, the most successful Child Legilimens began around the age of three and had learned to clear their minds when required by the age of five. I'm not trying to fault her parents. They succeeded very well with her for a mother who was just learning Legilimency herself and a father who had no skills at all. It is entirely possible that she had little need of Occlumency in her sheltered environment. Things are very different here, however. Besides, I intend to successfully teach her, unlike you."

"By doing what, sir?"

"Keeping the trust she has in me is one place to start. You never trusted me at any point in your training: either in Potions or Occlumency."

Harry was forced to admit to himself that was only too true. Miranda DID trust the potions master. If he was determined to retain that trust, mightn't things go better than they had with himself. "I don't want to see her hurt, Professor," he said then, not even bothering to try to keep the threatening tone out of his voice. "If you do not respect that, do not even try to begin with her because I will make your life miserable if she is harmed in any way!"

"Fortunately, Potter, your daughter is the one I care about helping. If I were here to help you, I would walk away and never look back right now."

A shriek from Miranda cut off any reply Harry had intended to make. "Murderer! You've killed him and he didn't hurt you at all!"

Harry and Severus both sprinted across the grass as Petunia ran from the kitchen. "Dudders!" she exclaimed. "What did you do that for?"

The chunky teen halted in the process of twisting the arm of a headless stuffed bear to gape at his mother in shock. "I was only teaching the girl to wrestle, Mum."

The distraction cost him the bear. "You did it, Severus," came a disembodied voice before the head flew back on and stuck of its own accord and the animal seemed to jump into Miranda's ready arms.

"I would have, Hes--"

He broke off with a curse as Dawlish came barreling across the lawn with his wand drawn. "Well, if it isn't Dumbledore's pet Death-Eater! I've had my eye on you for many a year, Snape. Who would have thought I'd get to haul your sorry arse in for using Ministry-restricted spells around the Chosen One? My! My! What will Dumbledore say?"

"Probably that no one knew 'Reparo' was a Ministry-restricted charm." Severus' voice was cold. "Is Fudge trying to drum up business, or has the power gone to Scrimgeour's brain so soon as this?"

"So you think all this is about a simple 'Reparo' charm? Who else is in this garden, Snape? I don't believe for a minute that even that dottering old coot, Dumbledore, would permit Harry Potter to be cursed and uncursed again by you within the bounds of this warded house."

Severus opened his mouth, but Miranda spoke before he could draw in a breath.

"I -- I-- I did it, sir. I-- I'm ever so sorry! I wasn't trying to hurt Harry. I-- I'd NEVER do that, sir. I-- I-- It was for Mr. Bear, sir. Dud-- Dudley had him and he-- he saided that he-- he-- he woulded tear Mr. Bear--" She stopped to choke down a hiccupping sob. "Limb from limb, he said, sir. I-- I didn't kno-- know what that meaned, but it didn't sounded nice at all, sir! The-- then he pulled-- he pulled Mr. Bear's head right off, sir! I-- I-- I didn't want Mr. Bear to DIE, sir! So-- so I-- (It was wrong, I know!) I wished him with dragon pox, so he'd get all sick like when he was four. He-- he'd have to stop hurting Mr. Bear if he were sick you know, sir. But then Aunt Petunia came running out of the house, and she was scolding Dudley for killing Mr. Bear. She-- she wouldn't want her boy sick again, you know, sir, so I-- I wishted the dragon pox away. Be-- besides Harry and Professor Snape were coming too, and I-- I didn't want a spanking, you know, sir. I-- I wasn't going to tell, because I'd get an awful spanking, but it isn't right to blame Pro-- Professor Snape, sir, when it was-- it was me, sir. And I am ever so sorry too!"

"Well, well!" Severus had his sneer firmly in place. "Is this what our taxes buy these days, Dawlish? Trained aurors who spend their time running around defending teddy bear killers from seven-year-olds? The new minister must be so proud-- your old boss, isn't he?"

"Stow it, Snape!" the man growled. "Who would have expected a young witch with a teddy bear in this garden?"

"You might have, if you'd taken the time to find out."

Harry had gone to kneel by Miranda's side. "His arm is still hurt, Harry. He doesn't want his arm hurted! See?"

Petunia, who had begun to speak quietly to the men, turned and addressed the girl instead. "I will fix your friend's arm, Child, as soon as we go back into the house. Now, do not mess with it. We don't want it getting worse."

"Yes, ma'am, Aunt Petunia." Miranda, tears still on her cheeks, kissed the bear's ear. "Professor Kitty agrees it's best to wait for Aunt Petunia to fix your arm, Mr. Bear. We must be patient, she says."

The child had said the last with her lips pressed against the furry ear. The adults had all turned back to their discussion and appeared not to notice. Harry bent over her, as if examining the bear. "Professor Kitty is here now, Mite?" he asked in a whisper.

Miranda nodded towards the tool shed nearby.

"Professor," whispered Harry. "Do you know what Professor Snape and I were talking about? Uhh, please mew if you want to say 'yes'."

Silence. "She knows," whispered Miranda at last. "She was hiding closer before I screamed. But she can't let anyone hear her. She wants me to tell you yes and that she thinks it would be very good for both of us. She knows it's hard to trust that, but she wants you to try."

"OK, then, thank you, ma'am." Harry leaned closer to the girl. "Thank you too, Mite."

Miranda dropped the bear and wrapped her arms around Harry's neck. "You're welcome, Harry-Daddy. I love you."

Harry awkwardly patted her back. "I do you too," he muttered.

Snape approached. "We need to talk about Mr. Weasley."

Miranda looked up in concern. "He's not sick, is he?"

"No; he wrote a law."

"A real one, like police use?"

"Yes, a very real one."

Miranda picked up the bear. "That was very smart of you, sir. I bet everyone is proud of it! I will be from now on."

Something in that action bothered Harry. Severus, however, appeared to notice nothing.

"Mr. Weasley would not be proud to know that you broke his law tonight."

Miranda looked aghast. "I didn't even know he wrote a law. I LOVE Mr. Weasley! I'd never breaked his law!" She began to cry.

"It is called the Muggle Protection Act, Miranda." Snape's voice was coldly unaffected by her tears. "Do you know what Muggles are?"

"They're people who can't do magic," sniffled the girl. "Mommy, Daddy, and Auntie Nell all said so."

"Who in this house are Muggles?"

"Uncle Vernon and Dudley."

Snape just stared at her. "Do you know what 'protection' means?"

"Not letting someone get hurt."

"Exactly. And what is an act?"

"Something you do."

The man sighed. "The word can mean that. In this case, however, it means a law. So Mr. Weasley wrote a law about not hurting Muggles--"

Miranda gasped. "And when I gave Dudley dragon pox?" She looked both hopeful and abashed. Harry found himself wondering how it was possible to be both at once.

"Exactly," nodded Snape. "Your Aunt Petunia, however, did not wish to press charges at this time. Do you know what that means?"

"Umm. Pressing is something the Muggle laundry did to Daddy's good shirt. But the boy didn't knowed how to do it right, so Daddy's shirt burned. The boy's daddy hit him hard, but my daddy made him stop. He gave me the shirt to play nurse with. The boy's daddy bought him another one. Then we moved, so we didn't have to play at being Muggles anymore, and Ee-ee could play outside with me."

"That is one kind of pressing, but not the kind I meant. 'Pressing charges' means complaining to the law enforcement officers and having someone arrested."

Miranda started to tremble and hid behind Harry. "Mr. Bear and I don't wanted to go to jail! We wants to stay with Harry; we do!"

"You're not going to jail, Mite," Harry promised, pulling her close. "Professor Snape said Aunt Petunia was not going to press charges."

Miranda sniffled. "Thank you, Aunt Petunia. Mr. Bear thanks you too."

"However," Snape continued. "It must NEVER happen again! Are we clear on that issue, Miranda Bentley?"

"Yes, sir."

"Because if it does, someone will answer for it, and that someone won't be the teddy bear."

The girl hugged Mr. Bear tightly. "I'm really sorry that I broke your law, sir," she informed the animal. "I didn't know is why, sir. I promise not to do it again."

"Mite?" Harry spoke hesitantly. He had unconsciously noted Petunia's approach, but the auror seemed not to be listening to Snape, being more interested in watching Dudley's safe return to the house. "Why do you say it's Mr. Bear's law?"

"Because I'm not allowed to talk to Mr. Weasley, but he is disappointed, so I wanted him to know that I'm sorry and didn't mean to hurt him or break his special law. I want to tell him how I love him too, and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. I hope to meet her soon."

Dawlish nodded back toward Petunia and hurriedly left the yard as the screen door snapped shut on Dudley.

Harry relaxed in relief as the auror retreated from sight. Then he turned a comforting smile on the still-trembling child. "I'm sure you will be meeting her soon. You can write Mr. Weasley a letter tomorrow explaining all that.

"Come into the house with me, Child, and I'll fix your teddy's arm now." Petunia beckoned imperatively.

Miranda closed her mouth on whatever she had been intending to tell Harry. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you," she whispered at length. Hugging the bear tightly, she retreated behind the woman.

"Why was she talking to the bear like he was Mr. Weasley?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Use your brain for something besides a seperator for your ears, Potter!" Snape snapped. "Why was she talking to the bear as if it were Hestia Jones?"

"Because Hestia was there, and you told her not to talk to the guard, and..." Harry's voice died away as his eyes widened. "Now Mr. Weasley is standing there?"

"Unless he's a blathering idiot, he has chosen a different location in which to stand. But basically, you are correct, Potter. Your daughter knows when the guards change and who they are, if she has met them before, that is. It is information we never intended you to have, but now the headmaster has accepted that it is unavoidable. You always complain that people do not tell you enough about the Order you would love to join. Figure out a way to find out who is around, and you have a great means of protection at your very elbow twenty-four, seven."

"Miranda always knows, Professor?"

"Yes."

Harry could see problems ahead. Miranda had been traumatized by Hestia, a gentle woman who probably would not wish to hurt the proverbial fly. "I-- I think it would be a very good thing for you to teach Miranda Occlumency, sir. Thank you for--"

The bang of the screen door caused both to spin around. Miranda was already almost upon them, eyes wide with fright. Petunia ran after her, lugging her sewing basket.

"Uncle Vernon said he was locking up now and anyone not inside the house would be sleeping elsewhere. I don't want to sleep here without you, Harry-Daddy, please! Mr. Bear doesn't either!"

Out-of-breath, Petunia reached the trio. "For mercy's sake, Child, your uncle was only joking. We would NEVER lock Harry out for the night! Just ask him if we ever had before."

"No," began Harry. 'But you've threatened it often enough,' he added to himself.

Miranda was thoroughly unconvinced. "If you have to stay out all night, keep me with you, sir, please! And Mr. Bear too!"

"Let me have the animal back, and we'll go over to the bench and finish fixing him. He will not like being snatched from me in that rude way again however. His arm almost came completely off, and it was nearly fixed before. See here?" Petunia showed the most recent injuries to the animal as if showing off a new automobile. "When we get this fixed, maybe your daddy will be ready to come back into the house with us." Her eyes informed Harry that he had better be ready, like it or not.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry I snatched Mr. Bear that way, ma'am. I-- I didn't mean to be rude."

"Well, as long as it does not happen again." Petunia led the child over to the garden bench.

Snape regarded the boy for a long moment. "You think so?" he asked at length. "That it's a good idea, I mean."

"I do."

Another silent appraisal followed. Finally Snape agreed. "It would be a very good thing indeed, Potter. I shall contact you tomorrow with a schedule."

"Thank you, Professor."

Miranda returned, clutching the bear. "Aunt Petunia says it's time to come in now, Harry-Daddy. I'm sorry I ran away from her before."

"I understand, Mite. You thought Uncle Vernon really was going to lock me out, and that scared you. It would have scared anybody in your place. Come on. It is WAY past your bedtime now!"

"Yes, sir. Good night, Professor Snape. Good night, Mr. Bear. I love you both SO much!"

"Good night, Professor," Harry echoed. "Thank you, sir. And good night, Mr. Bear!" He laughed.

"Mr. Bear says," Miranda called back from the stoop where she waited, "Good night. Sleep well, Son!"

Severus, glancing at Harry's face, could not miss the grin that suffused it. In a moment, however, it was gone again. "Goodbye, Professor."

"Goodbye, Potter."

As Snape walked away, perhaps he imagined the husky voice behind him. It sounded like tears were threateningly near. "Good night, Mr. Bear. I hope you sleep well too, sir." Looking back over his shoulder showed Severus only an empty garden and a screen door that snapped softly closed as he listened.


End file.
